The Xylophone of Gondor
by QueenSword
Summary: Meet Elizabeth, who believes that a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. "How many Stewards does it take to change a light bulb? None. Gondor has no light bulbs. Gondor needs no light bulbs" Eventually Boromir/OC
1. Of Panties and Pepper Spray

**This fic has been through a massive edit, so apologies those here looking for the original. But this version, in my opinion, is loads better than the one I first wrote. I still have to finish it, but I plan on doing that as well. I hope you all enjoy. **

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><p><strong>The Xylophone of Gondor,<strong>

**The adventures and mishaps of Elizabeth Sparrow,**

**By QueenSword.**

_**"They'll say, We stared into the wind that tore away our breath,**_  
><em><strong>we left behind a message that cannot be claimed by death.<br>A hero lives forever, for the ones that carry on,  
>What will they say about you, when I'm gone?<br>- Heather Dale, Hero.**_

**Chapter One: Of Panties and Pepper Spray.**

_**"...Wonderland, Wonderland, nobody knows the way, but if you find it in your dreams,  
>you can find it at your day job, somewhere south of Hell.<strong>_  
><em><strong>Take the path to left or right with just your gut to guide you,<strong>_  
><em><strong>the story is not for anyone else to tell."<br>- S. J. Tucker, Cheshire Kitten (We're All Mad Here).**_

"Lizzie, your knickers are all over the garden, again." Called Grandma Sparrow from her spot on the sofa. She seemed completely accepting of this, as if it was a regular occurrence for one to have knickers all over the garden.

Elizabeth swore under her breath before rushing down the stairs, almost tripping on the last two in her haste. The neighbour boy had been nothing but trouble since they moved here. He was a mere thirteen, far too young to consider real humiliating methods of torment, yet he was just persistent enough to be a deep annoyance. This particular incident was a supposed 'punishment' for accidentally stepping on his chalk drawing on the pavement.

She just made it over the threshold of the front door when a breeze picked up, strong enough to make her panties float away. They flocked together like exotic birds free from a cage, tangling on the letterbox and fence. He had done this once before, except she had friends round. They had never stopped teasing her about it. Elizabeth imagined killing the boy a thousand ways but instead of putting any of them into practice, she ran all over the garden picking the garments up, ignoring the titters coming from the houses adjacent. At least it wasn't her granny pants.

"Mark my words, he will pay..." She growled, snatching a particularly nice pair. She had no idea how he had got a hold of them or who he had bribed, but she suspected he had stolen them when they were on the washing line. It was hardly an Indiana Jones calibre mystery.

I suppose you want to know what our dashing heroine looks like. That is, after all, how dozens of stories before this have started. Elizabeth was an average sort of girl. The kind that keeps pepper spray in her handbag. The kind that dyes her hair a pleasant shade of gold. The kind that watches Lord of the Rings about seven times and was, of course, an undercover book geek.

The panties had all been gathered into her arms, her cheeks flushing vivid crimson with embarrassment, hoping that nobody had seen the lace thong that uncle Ted got her last Christmas. The terrible thing was she liked it and wore it often. She stormed back into the house, slamming the door and muttering a string of profanities under her breath. She dumped her knickers on the nearest surface available (the kitchen counter) and stormed melodramatically into the living and proceeded to fling herself onto a slight, pink arm chair.

The chair used to belong to her mother, who had left Elizabeth in the care of Grandma Sparrow about twenty years ago. Elizabeth had inherited so many things from her mother-dearest; the chair, because she didn't want to take it with her, and, according to Grandma Sparrow, a fierce sense of pride and independence. She liked the chair better, at least it was practical. Pride had gotten her into trouble before. From Grandma Sparrow she had received thickly-lashed eyes, a temper and a fair complexion. She hated getting sun-burned in the summer.

"Lizzie, why don't I put the kettle on?" She glanced up, noticing her grandma's attempt to soothe the annoyance that was buzzing under her skin. She considered the prospect of a cup of tea and decided it wouldn't be a complete waste of time.

"Okay," She replied, then as an after thought, "If you don't mind." The moment Grandma Sparrow's back was turned, she started planning her revenge. He would pay. The neighbour boy would pay.

Half an hour later, Elizabeth had drunk her tea and she could feel the caffeine swirling about in her veins, making the plan she had formulated appear a much better idea than it was. A delightfully wicked smile came over her face, remembering all the times he had got one over on her; When she built a snowman for her little cousin, Pippa, he melted it with a heater, then left a suicide note where it had been standing. Broke 3 year old Pippa's heart. When he'd left a dirty message on her answering machine. Who knew he had such an extensive vocabulary. And now the panties, oh God, The panties. Twice he pulled this one. If she didn't get him in the next few days he would probably pull down her washing whenever humanly possible. What was odd was that she wasn't wholly sure what she had done in the first place to deserve such an intense hatred from this thirteen year old.

She stood from the pink chair, smoothing down her shirt and stretching her arms behind her head until she heard a satisfying crack. She shouldered her handbag, not even bothering to check the contents, and told Grandma where she'd be (The nearest Tesco) and if she wanted anything (She didn't). She yelled a brief goodbye over her shoulder and was out of the door before she was asked to go out of her way for plant fertiliser or toffees.

She practically skipped to her car, grinning at the house next to hers, picturing the look of horror and mortification on the neighbour boy's face. She clambered onto the seat of the worn red Land Rover and chucked her handbag onto the passenger seat, fine-tuning her plan of merciless revenge.

Elizabeth Sparrow lived with her grandmother in the regrettably dreary countryside of Yorkshire. Her little village contained only a corner shop, a post office, a bus stop and a pub. Said pub was named 'The Black Bull' and she visited it on numerous occasions to drink pints of cheap beer and write bad poetry in hopes of becoming a renowned writer. This little village was miles away from any decent chain shops that sold all the sugary confectionery that she consumed on a daily basis. These huge shops held what she needed: The weapons of revenge warfare. So it wasn't surprising that when she was making her way home, eyelids drooping and limbs lethargic, the sun was tilting lazily towards the horizon. What did shock her was the number of thick, black, ominous looking clouds being blown in the general direction of her house.

She winced, brow crumpling and mouth turning downwards. She hated storms, always had. In days gone past, when she was very little, she used hide under the bed, worried that it was Thor coming to smash her with his hammer. However, now she was in her mid-twenties, she realised that such foolishness was not at all dignified. When the thunder scared her in the present, she huddled under a blanket with a cricket bat. It was much more elegant. Even if she didn't know how a cricket bat was going to protect her from one billion volts of electricity.

She was starting to prepare for the worst when huge splatters of rain began to fall heavily on the windscreen. The water fell heavier and heavier and she turned the windscreen wipers on full power. _If I hear even the tiniest clap of thunder, I'm pulling over._ She inspected the narrow country lane she was driving down. It was a stereotypical Yorkshire road with drystone walling and green fields on either side, with a small forest coming up ahead.

The last time there was a big storm, Grandma made a game out of it. She was nineteen but felt and acted fifteen. They pitched a tent in the living room and she read Elizabeth stories of myth and legend, of magic jewellery and talking flowers, and soothed away any sort of fear. No matter how many times she told herself that it was stupid and immature to be scared of something that only affects 1 in 7000,000 people a year and that ill-fated soul probably wouldn't be her, she had heard many a horror story from friends to back her up in the fact that her fear was completely rational.

She jumped, in a manner that she never would have allowed in the presence of others, when a bolt of lightning licked across the twilight sky. Her heart hammered in her chest and she squinted and saw the forest up ahead and the idea of stopping didn't seem like a bad one. She drove carefully for another few minutes, acutely aware of the slippery road and pulled into a grassy alcove on the outskirts of the woods, sheltered by tall pine trees. A tremendous clap of thunder echoed in her ears and she started.

_Bloody weird time to have a storm if you ask me,_ she thought. She rooted around in her bag and was relieved to discover that her past self had thought ahead and taken her phone. She dialled her home number, but all she got in answer was a frantic beeping informing her that there was no signal. She swore openly, cursing for all she was worth and threw the phone back onto the seat beside her. She glared at the offending piece of technology.

_Well, Grandma will know that I'll have stopped to wait for the air to clear. I hope._ She grabbed the old blanket from the back seat and curled up with it, smoothing the soft edge of it against her cheek, trying to block out the crashes of thunder and pounding of the rain.

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><p>The morning had dawned clear and any traces of the previous nights storm had vanished. Elizabeth was in a rather uncomfortable position that came from accidentally falling asleep while curled up like a kitten in the drivers seat. She was irritated that she had fallen asleep in the first place, she was determined to get back and finish her plan. She busied herself with rubbing her eyes and lifting her head and trying to recall where she had parked the car.<p>

_The trees look different,_ she thought, groggily and raised the whole of her body upright, shivering from the lack of blanket. Her jeans stuck a little painfully to the inside of her knee. She narrowed her eyes and peered at the surrounding area. _Wait a cotton-picking minute._ Her car was still in the place where she left it; in a little crevice just out of the forest. And she was still in the car, so someone couldn't have moved the entire vehicle without driving. But she'd locked the doors.

_So, the question is, where the fuck am I?_ Instead of the towering pines that had loomed over her car the evening before, there now stood proud oak trees rich in acorns. There was no sound of the occasional car passing by like there usually was. The oak trees cast intricate patterns on the bonnet of the car. Upon looking up, the sun appeared to just be fully risen. _How long have I been asleep?_ She pondered. Elizabeth was now fully awake, vigorously rubbing her eyes that were a little swollen and wondering if she was having a lucid dream.

When she chanced a glance in the opposite direction, she felt like she had been doused in icy water. The alcove was not an alcove at all. She was utterly surrounded by trees with no sign of any track or country lane. This can't be happening. Shaking her head, she adjusted herself in the drivers seat and took the keys off the spot beside her. _Right, so I'll get the car going and phone grandma, no harm done-_ The keys she had placed in the ignition refused to turn; something was jamming it. Frustration melted in the pit of the stomach, simmering up to a boil. She hit the steering wheel with the flat of her hand. Mistake. Pain blossomed on her hand, which only fuelled the deep vexation and the feeling of uselessness.

In a moment of extreme determination and inexplicable energy, she leaped from the car entirely, ignoring how chilly the air was compared to the warmth of the car, and stormed round to inspect the inner mechanics of the car. She didn't know anything about cars, save for changing tires, but at that precise moment she didn't really care. The air outside was fragrant, smelling of tree sap and growth. The forest she stood in was vast and not one path was in sight. Once she stared at the intricate workings of her car for a few moments, she decided it was probably a bit out of her league. She slammed the bonnet back down.

She looked around desperately for a source of inspiration that would tell her the correct way to go about attracting some help. She chewed her lip, thinking for a second, then opened the passenger door and seized her phone. The 'no network' message blinked at her in red letters, mocking her. She snatched her bag and slammed the door, locking it for good measure. She whispered a sorrowful goodbye to the car, promising to retrieve it as soon as humanly possible. She breathed deeply, preparing herself for whatever this unknown wood had to offer. She was totally ignorant of which way was north and as no paths magically presented themselves, she picked a direction at random.

_How did I end up here?_ She was bewildered. She had led a pretty normal life until now and she had assumed it would stay that way. The terrain was highly difficult to walk over, as she found out. She had been on walks when she was younger, but this was ridiculous. Rocks and tree roots seemed to trip her up on purpose and branches looked like they went out of their way to smack her upside the head. A small pebble managed to find its' way into her shoe. _I wish I had something to defend myself, like a cricket bat, but then again, what do I need defence from? The trees? The flowers? Squirrels?_ Even so, she wished for something to ease the discomfort of the ever-waning silence. It certainly didn't feel like a friendly silence.

She trekked for what felt like hours. It had only been fifteen minutes, but it was through inhospitable woodland and she had many scratches on her face and arms from walking into branches and brambles._ Curses for this shirt! Why didn't I take a jacket?_

She stopped abruptly, having the intense feeling that she was being watched. Something behind her rustled. Something that certainly wasn't the local wildlife or a particularly lively flower. _I might have a stalker! He'll have lured me out of my vehicle and into the forest, just so he could get me alone to do God knows what to me! Okay, stay calm, stay calm. He could be a nice stalker, the kind that gives you tea and cake before-_

She didn't have much time to finish her thoughts of entertaining a stalker because, before she knew it, a massive weight tackled her, sending her and the attacker sprawling across the forest floor. Her heartbeat increased and adrenaline flooded her system. A large hand was over her mouth when she opened it to cry out. She closed her eyes and fought to be free of the body on top of her, trying to claw the assailant off her.

"Don't scream for both our sakes, little one." Said a gruff voice. She stopped fighting for a moment to spare a glance. The man was covered in a layer of grime and dressed in clothes dirtied by time and circumstance. He was very tall and had shaggy dark hair, flecked with grey that looked like it had gone unwashed for several weeks. His eyes were grey and his face was unforgiving. She bit him as hard as she could and he let out a yelp of surprise but held on determinedly. She continued to thrash and struggle like a fish out of water until her muscles were aching with protest and the adrenaline started to leave her bloodstream. "If you can be more agreeable, then I will release you." His eyes glared as she nodded her consent. The hand over her mouth was taken away.

Elizabeth coughed, her throat raw from shouts that weren't heard. "Who are you? Robin Hood? Where are your tights?"

"You aren't in a position to be asking questions. Your breathing is loud enough to be assaulted in pitch darkness." He rose from the ground, dusting himself off and she followed suit.

She sniffed. "I wasn't breathing loudly and, anyway, I am in a position to ask questions because I have pepper spray. So don't you try anything."

"What is 'pepper spray'?"

She stared at him, mystification evident on her face. "It's, um, a man-repelling device that I got off eBay." She quickly whipped it from her bag and tried to look menacing.

"You mustn't tease me, little one."

"Stop calling me, 'little one'. There is nothing little about me." Clearly, she had meant her temper and confidence, but she realized her grave mistake when the stranger raised an eyebrow. Her cheeks reddened slightly and she shook her head. "That _may_ have come out badly. But the point is, I am not little, I have pepper spray and it would please me greatly if you pissed off." She gave him a dirty look and she was suddenly all too aware of how alone she was in the seemingly never ending forest.

"There are creatures in this forest whom would not say no too a girl in their stomachs. If you swear to be quieter, I will happily be on my way." _He must be one of those_ _renaissance hobos I have heard so much about._

"Fine." She said, very much questioning the existence of girl-eating monsters. "I solemnly swear not to breath loudly to attract unwanted attention. From girl-eating squirrels."

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. "Then I shall take my leave." The man turned his back.

"Wait!" She called at his retreating form, struck by that elusive inspiration. "Do you know the way back to the road?"

Still turned away, he said, "There is no road until you get near enough to Bree."

"Bree?_" Um, what? This guy is off his rocker._ He looked at her as if she'd announced herself to be a unicorn because she'd stuck an ice cream cone on her forehead, which she had done several times but that's hardly the point.

"You must be lost indeed."

She thought for a moment before coming to the conclusion that, yes, she was very lost. "Yes." She announced. "Um, would you mind awfully if you showed me to the the road or nearest sign of civilization. I would be very, very grateful." She twiddled her thumbs.

The man considered her. How could she possibly have travelled any sort of distance with those clothes? She had an accent unknown to him and he didn't know of any land where the women dressed as she did. Most peculiar. "I will take you to Bree, it is near and is where I am intending to go."

She frowned. "Who are you?" She repeated.

"A ranger."

She administered him a once-over. "You don't look much like a power ranger to me. Or a park ranger. Or an army ranger. What kind of ranger are you, exactly?"

"One who will lead you to the nearest town."

"Touché." _Options: Stay in unidentified forest, maybe dying a tragic death because I don't know the first thing about survival. Or, go with the 'friendly' ranger-person and don't die. Besides, if he tries anything, I can pepper spray him._ "Okay, I trust you for now. Just know that if you try anything, you'll get pepper sprayed."

He nodded, keeping his eye on the small metal canister she clutched and wondering if it actually did anything at all. "As you wish. What might I call you?"

"Eli- Um, Sandy." He walked carefully back in the direction he came, hardly making a sound. She followed, hoping that there would be tea and cake anyway, regardless of him not being a stalker.

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><p><strong>Hope you're liking it so far! Click the review button! It'll only take a few seconds :)<strong>


	2. Of Walking and Inner Monologues

**Chapter Two: Of Walking and Inner Monologues**

**"Time, it took us to where the water was,**  
><strong>That's what the water gave me.<strong>  
><strong>And time goes quicker between the two of us,<strong>  
><strong>Oh, my love, don t forsake me,<strong>  
><strong>Take what the water gave me."<br>- Florence and the Machine, What the Water Gave Me.**

As it turned out, the journey to Bree was longer than anticipated. Very, very long. And boring. And the company of the man was less than interesting. In fact, she would be so forward to say that he was a bore. He would quietly sing in the evenings, sometimes in a language that sounded like Finnish, sometimes in words she could understand. She had a growing feeling that she was a long way from home. Of course, Elizabeth sang as well. She promised she would keep it to a minimum when she saw the look of pain across his face when she sang 'Build Me Up Buttercup'. It was also a few notches above what he considered quiet.

The first night was hell for both of them. For her because she had always been in tent when she slept outside and the tree roots were most uncomfortable. For him because Elizabeth had slightly vomited at the sight of him gutting a young rabbit and he was amazed that she still had songs to sing by morning. Still, he was grateful that she didn't complain much, even when the stew he had given her was less than appetizing. No, she didn't complain, she was just considerably irritating.

It was the second day of travelling when the boredom really started to set it. She judged by his reactions that his favourite song so far was Lady Gaga's 'Born This Way', and his least favourite was The Donna's 'Take it Off'. She was in the middle of a beautiful, she thought, version of 'Anyway you want it', her choice of Journey song, no matter what people said about Don't Stop Believing, when he spoke, "Must you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Sing all the time."

"Yes," she answered, "Unless you have a better idea to waste time?"

No reply. "Singing it is..." She continued the Journey number, cracking her knuckles self consciously. _Anti-social renaissance hobo. What is up with his clothes, anyway? Maybe that's just how rangers dress. I wonder why I've never seen a ranger like him before... Meh, they're probably too busy cuddling with trees or wrestling with rocks to be seen in public._

He thought she was the strangest of creatures, dressed in trousers and tunic instead of a gown or women's travelling clothes, her crass language, the inappropriate songs, the jokes that he didn't understand.

_("Hey, ranger!"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Want to hear a hilarious joke?"_

_"If you insist."_

_"Knock Knock."_

_"You're supposed to ask who's there."_

_"Who is there?"_

_"Water."_

_"You're supposed to say, 'Water who?'"_

_"Water who?"_

_"Water you doing in my house!")_

She hadn't made an attempt to make conversation after that, maybe it was because he didn't laugh. In the present, our heroine was musing what the strangers name was. _Probably something old, like Argyle. Or Niles._ She gave up her name game and thought of home. _Ah, Grandma... She'll be scaring the trousers off the couple next door, asking if they've seen me. As soon as I get out of this forest, I'm leading the charge home._ "Um, excuse me? Mr. Ranger?"

"Yes?" He answered through gritted teeth.

"How much time do you think it will take to get to this 'Bree'?"

"Another week, at least." He continued walking with extended strides. He was dreading another week of her never-ending tunes. Disbelief was etched all over her features; she'd expected two days at the most. _Great, another week of Mr. Too-High-and-Mighty-to-Laugh-at-My-Jokes._

"I have another question." She paused when this failed to get any response, "What's your name?"

That made the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. "You may call me Strider."

She hurried forward, so she was standing in front of him. "Seeing as I'm trusting you to lead my put of an unknown forest, you may as well know my actual name. I'm Elizabeth Sparrow, pleased to meet you." She held out a hand. He took it and kissed it.

"Strider. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I was going for a handshake, actually." She commented dryly. "Don't you have a last name? Or are you too important for that? Like Madonna, or Lassie?"

"I see no need for you to know it."

"Well, you could have told me that before I told you mine." She grumbled, now walking beside him rather than behind. "So... What you going to do when to get Bree?"

"I am meeting someone there." His expression a careful neutral. _Hang on. Bree... Strider... Medieval manners... WAIT!_ She froze dead in her tracks, complexion paling considerably. Strider also halted, staring suspiciously, unable to find a reason for her stopping. "Elizabeth? We need to keep walking if we are going to find a good place for a fire."_ Me? In Middle Earth? No, mustn't jump to ridiculous conclusions._

"Yes." She said quietly, breaking out of her thought process. "Sorry, I just had a possible life-changing epiphany. Not to worry. Off we go." He gave her a strange look but sauntered in search of a good spot to have some lunch. _Good grief! How can this be happening? I haven't even read any fanfiction in years. I'm not in anyone's story am I?_ She paused, trying to hear an authors mind, thinking about what to do with her next. _Nah. Still, I'll ask Arag- erm, Strider._

She shook her head rapidly, like she was endeavouring to shake water from her ears, while pinching her forearm to see if she was dreaming. "What are you doing?" asked Strider, coming back to see why she was being so slow in catching up.

"Oh, heh, nothing." She grinned widely, "Have you started a fire yet? Want any help?"

"I haven't found anywhere suitable." He said, "I need you to look for some decent fire wood so I can hunt for whatever happens to cross our path. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle collecting a few dry twigs, thanks." She rolled her eyes and smiled, heading off at random. _Okay, think. If I'm in Middle Earth. I'll ask a Middle Earthy question. Like, Hey, Strider, How are those good elves of Rivendell doing? No, too upfront. What about, So, Strider, has the War of the Ring happened yet? definitely too obvious. OOH! I know, Strider, are you going to Bree to see if Frodo does indeedy have the One Ring? Haha! Perfect! I'll just slip it in the conversation somewhere._

She gathered dry branches easily because, well, they were just lying on the ground. Without her guide to tell her where the difficult rocks and tree roots were, she found it took a great deal more effort to navigate the treacherous strangeness of it all. This time she sang a bit of Stevie Nicks, stopping that uncomfortable, almost awkward, silence from reaching her ears. Like all the trees were holding their collective breaths. She stared icily when she found Strider neatly skinning a small rodent, leaving bloodstains on the only suitable rock for sitting in the area. He only grinned.

She dumped the firewood at his feet, feeling nauseated. "What poor innocent creature have you ambushed now?"

"Not innocent, they're a pest over in Bree, I am simply doing the town a favour."

She carefully lowered herself onto the only grassy patch in sight and examined her clothing. The shirt's sleeves were ripped but still wearable. The jeans, however, were another kettle of fish; below the knee was completely covered in mud, grass stains and who knows what else. "Do you have a knife or something that can cut through this?" Pointing to the bedraggled material.

"I do."

She sighed in exasperation. "Please can borrow it?"

He reluctantly handed over a very sharp blade. She took the handle gingerly. "I'm going over there," She said, indicating the desired location, "don't sneak up on me, unless you're dying and need CPR." He didn't give sign that he was listening. "Nice talking to you too," She muttered.

Needless to say, Elizabeth came back with a collection of cuts on her hands but, also, with a very fetching pair of shorts. She pointedly ignored Strider's raised eyebrows at her new attire, choosing to slump back onto her patch of grass. (She later officially claimed it by making a flag out of a stick and leaf and sticking it in the earth.) She never got to slip her question into conversation, as there was no conversation to slip it into.

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><p>The next morning was like the other two; sunny but slightly chilly. After packing up her borrowed sleeping equipment, she was in for a big surprise; Strider started to talk to her. Properly talk, not the monotone, one word answers he gave her yesterday. "Where do you hail from, little one?"<p>

She blinked in astonishment, "I'm from Dublin originally, but then me and my grandmother moved away to Yorkshire."

"Let me put this more simply, as I am not acquainted with those towns. Are you from Rohan or Gondor?" He asked this while looking seriously at her, almost like he was daring her to say otherwise.

"Neither! I'm from England. Ever heard of it? We're in it, right now."

"Quite frankly, I have not."

"Yeah.. well... You need to teach yourself some geography." She finished lamely. _Okay, time to casually mention something Middle Earthy... If this doesn't work and, in fact, I am not trapped in the world that Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien created, I am trapped in the woods with someone who is completely crazy._ "So, where do you, um, hail from?"

His eyes became distant and reminiscent of days gone past, "Everywhere, more or less." _Well, thank you for helping me out, buddy. I'm trying to figure out if or if not I'm in a fantasy world and your back to giving super vague answers._

"Look, I need to know if I'm in Middle Earth because I'm having a internal crisis about if I am or not." She blurted out, shocking herself a little. _...And like a lion stalks it's prey, I go stealthily onwards._

Strider didn't even stop walking. "Indeed, you are in Middle Earth."

She blinked. "Um, you took that calmly. Explain?"

"There isn't anything _to_ explain, I have been wondering if you were in fact who you said you were, which, I have decided you are. I am not entirely astounded at your inquisition of whether we are in Middle Earth or not, because there has been tales of others like yourself; those who come from lands unknown, some not even speaking the common tongue." A minute or so passed in which they ambled companionably, Elizabeth marginally in front so she kept wandering off Strider's carefully plotted route.

"Strider?"

"What is it?" He said pleasantly.

"Which was your favourite song of mine?"

"I would have to say.." He thought for a moment, rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughtfully before answering. "The one about being born the way you are. Very insightful."

Her turn to deliberate. "I never thought of it like that. You bring new light on The Gaga, my friend."

Another few minutes passed. "If, you know, I come from another... world, dimension, thing, whatever you want to call it, then how do you know this dimension, world, etc... isn't a novel in mine?" She proposed.

His eyebrows went up an inch or so at the statement, "Is what you say true?"

"Yeah, an English professor wrote books about all you guys. This world is a legend where I come from."

Strider contemplated this for a hushed moment. "If that is true, then you hold a vast quantity of knowledge and you already know why I am on my way to Bree."

"That I do. It isn't because you like the windmills." _Dammit! Now it's going to be awkward. Quick, say something to break the tension!_

"Hey, Strider?"

"Yes?"

"Don't leave me when we get to Bree, will you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, little one."

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	3. Of Pirate Voices and Hobbits

**Chapter Three: Of Pirate Voices and Hobbits.**

_**"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?  
>Caught in a landslide, No escape from reality,<br>Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see."  
>- Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody.<strong>_

For Elizabeth, the following week came to a routine: Get up at the crack of dawn, tell joke, Strider not amused, walk for hours at a time, sing songs, tell another joke, Strider still not amused (A feat that still puzzled her. Was she saying wrong?), sleep. It was extremely wearisome. All her joints were aching dreadfully, her throat was dry from the liquid rationing (She stopped to pee too much), her leg muscles felt stretched from keeping up the pace, without deodorant, sweat was starting to collect under her arms, and leg hair was making it's revenge.

_I haven't looked in a mirror in days, I must look like a wookie. Bleuugh, underarm hair is disgusting._ Thankfully, although she didn't know it, the very, very long walk was coming to an end, as they were less than half an hour away from Bree. Strider told her this while wearing a mask of concern, troubled by her deficiency of clothes.

"When we arrive at the outskirts of the forest, it may be wise for you to wear my cloak." He said.

"Why?" She shot.

"I should think your garb would attract some unwanted attention."

"Oh no, it's fine. I'm sure little ol' me can handle whatever Bree has to offer." Strider frowned. Normally any maiden would be grateful to cover her bare flesh. But, he considered, she was not an ordinary woman. That half hour waned down to a simple fifteen minutes, with the town's walls partially showing in between the trees.

"If I may so inquire, what is your age?" He imposed.

"Me? I'm all but twenty five, good Sir."

"Ah, then certainly you are married." She stopped trying to get signal on her infuriating phone and gave him a strange look.

"Have you a mental defect? Of course not!"

"No? Does your father not permit it?"

She made a rude noise, "Like I give a flying fuck about what my Daddy-O permits or not. Besides, it's regarded too young to marry."

"You must live in a strange world."

"Not as insane as here. I'm not getting into a discussion of why daughters don't need to ask a man's permission to do anything." Then under her breath, "Not yet, anyway. The conversation will crop up, no doubt." Strider buttoned up, perplexed at the abnormalities of this culture she spoke of .

They reached the walls of the town. Elizabeth speculated if it was to keep unwanted persons out or the community in. The sun shone down, her first time in seeing it fully for days, instead of small rays that poked through the canopy of vast greenness. Shouts could be heard from inside, as it was midday, the busiest time of the working day. The source of her anxiety was the faint screech of chicken could be heard now and then.

Strider knocked heavily on an immense wooden door. Once, then twice when no reaction came from within. One panel was slid away to expose a weather-worn old man. Only his face, mind you. The panel wasn't that big. What's yer business? Upon identifying Strider, "Oh! Longshanks! Mr. Butterbur will be glad to have you back, Bill Ferny's been causing trouble, again."

His eyes lay to rest on Elizabeth. "What be yer business? Don't usually get lasses traveling around."

"Why you be talking like a pirate, matey?" She said, putting on her best Johnny Depp accent. "My business be with Sir Strider, here. If you don't surrender the loot, we'll pillage yer treasuries and capture yer children!" No comments passed for about 2 minutes. The expressions would be the same if she'd declared that she liked her pancakes with uncooked pasta. Strider suddenly insisted that she was his sister, journeying out from Rohan, desiring to explore the world first-hand.

The doorman blinked a few times before unbolting and opening the door, far too confused to so much as glance at her as she went passed. Strider grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her close to hiss in her ear, "Don't try anything like that again! Breelander's are touchy folk, so if you wish to keep your head, I would hold your tongue."

She yanked herself out of his grasp indigently, but nodded. _Suppose I'd better listen to the guy, he's being nice by taking me with him. Not that I couldn't have trekked for weeks in the woods to coincidentally stumble upon this, um..._She dared a darting a glance at the streets, which were filthy, and the people, who were filthier. _Endearing cul-de-sac, here. Ooooh! I get to meet Samwise! Frodo's cool and all, but he's the one who gave the plot some heart. What should I say? Perhaps I could do my pirate voice- No! That didn't go down well with the doorman._

She rambled off in her own thoughts, having to be stopped a few times because she kept drifting into passers-by. After the third time that happened. Strider took her aside. "You need to concentrate more. When we reach the Prancing Pony, I need you to be inconspicuous, at least for a short while." He pleaded, "Your clothing, as I mentioned earlier, is earning curious eyes. Please cover yourself." He handed her a cloak from his pack.

She scowled but took it anyway, wrapping it round her shoulders, unhappy at the prospect of sitting in a male dominated tavern, stinking of smoke and beer. As she observed earlier, the streets of Bree weren't easy on the eye. Dirt, encased in the stone cobbles, imprinted on the bottom of her shoes. _It's hardly Rome, is it? In the film, I never expected there to be such a stench in the air._ She had gained a few peculiar surveys from others, due to her garb and, surprisingly, to her height. She was 5'7, and next to Strider's 6'6, it gave the illusion she was smaller. But the majority of Bree's population were very short, so if it pleased her, she could count the number of men that tired to hide thinning hair.

_How far can the inn be? Hope we don't have to wait HOURS before the hobbits arrive. There'd better be time for me to have a good bath. Why didn't I bring my Herbal essences_? When they finally saw the Prancing Pony, Elizabeth almost cheered in acknowledgement, then had a little fangirl squeal. She now felt very grateful for the cloak; she really didn't like the look some people were giving her. One gentleman might have tried to catch her arm, she couldn't really be sure, despite the midday sun. Strider blocked her way in with one gangly arm, "Remember-"

"Yes, yes." She snapped, "Don't talk to strangers, be quiet, don't draw attention to myself. Got it." He removed his arm and pushed the door open. _Yep, as predicted. It reeks, have these people not heard of soap? Or air freshener?_ Strider went in first and she heard a few cries of 'Longshanks!'. Jitters hit the bottom of her stomach when she swiftly followed, cutting off whatever greetings they had in store for the ranger.

"Er, Hi..?" She questioned. Strider took her arm firmly and guided her to a small table in the corner.

_Okay then. Apparently it's drinks first, then getting a much needed bath... If he doesn't let me have a damn bath, the pepper spray is coming back out._ She seated herself, started to pull off her cloak. He gave her a warning glance before heading up to the counter. She decided to keep it on. _Well, aside from all these tiny people who are outright staring at me, I'm having a dandy old time. What's with these sweat stains and all._ _That must be Butterbur at the counter! He's a lot fatter than I imagined... Oooh, he's come back with drinks. I need a nice, cold-_

"Water?" She said, disappointed. She was hoping for beer or ale to remind her of the Black Bull. There's nothing like a nice pint of nostalgia.

"What else? It's hardly appropriate to be drinking alcohol during the day." He smiled. She lent over, getting a whiff of what was in his tankard. She choked.

"What," cough, "was that?"

"A tonic." He gulped it some of it down.

_Bloody heavyweight._ She slumped her chin on her hands, fangirl moments over and done with, suddenly missing home an awful lot. _Middle earth ain't what it's cracked up to be. Wandering through woodland with dangerous trees, dirty streets and smelling enough to make someone's eyes water. Mental Note: Get out of here as soon as possible, and I could send Strider a gift basket for his troubles. Flowers, a nice Hallmark card, and SOAP! God knows he needs it, oh, and some shampoo wouldn't hurt either. What does he use on his hair? Margarine? Animal fat? He looks the type not to be wasteful with what he kills..._

She sipped her water, wrinkling her nose at the stale taste. Or maybe that was the mug. She couldn't tell. She tapped her fingers on the table tunelessly. "So we just... sit here? Waiting for the hobbits?"

"Yes. So you were telling the truth. You do know the story of our world."

She cracked her knuckles. "That I was. Why would lie? I'm a lot of things, but at least I'm honest."

"As you have proven. Do you know any of the events that lie ahead?" His eyes were clear and curious.

"I can't tell you what's going to happen. It's cheating. I've probably changed things too much by going with you. You'd get lazy and stop going places, messing up the entire story." She frowned. "Look, I'm really grateful you took me with you. In all likelihood, I could have died. So, um, thanks. I'll pay you back when I get some form of currency."

His expression was very serious. "I am a ranger, I have helped people all my life, what kind of person would I be if I left you?"

"One with more money?""

"No matter who I found there, I would have brought them here."

"Modesty is not your best trait, is it?" He remained quiet and lit his pipe. She drummed her fingers against the wood. _So he just sits here until the Hobbit crew get here? How dull._ She looked longingly at Strider's mug. _What will Grandma be doing now? I bet she's calling every one of my friends, interrogating them, shining bright light's in their eyes... Bless her over-protectiveness._ With no warning, a sharp pang of home sickness resonated in her gut, causing her to bring her knees up to her chest and hug them. _Now I know how Dorothy felt. There's no place like home._

But, doing her best not to dwell in the past, she rooted around in her bag, surfacing with the much-loved iPod Classic. The battery was going to run down by itself anyway, so why not use it now? In a time of great boredom? _Ah, so many songs... My brain's almost certainly 70% lyrics, 20% hilarious jokes, 10% actual knowledge._

The inn filled up pretty quickly, the closer it got to night. Elizabeth soon lost herself in an ocean of melodies and chords and now that her and Strider were keeping to themselves, no one paid them much attention, aside from the few sideways gazes at her headphones. She didn't know how the ranger kept so still and noiseless. He had barely shifted positions since they arrived, choosing to puff on his pipe and stare aimlessly into space.

Twilight's rays were escaping through the dense clouds, painting the town blue making the whole town look much more attractive than it was in daylight. 'Big Yellow Taxi' blared through her headphones. _Ah, Miss Joni Mitchell! She did sing about some odd things... Of all the things to sing about, why a taxi? Someone else would say it was about something deep and meaningful, but I say, 'If it look's like a duck, it's a duck'_

She sighed, having heard over 200 songs in one sitting, growing restless. She twisted round to see if Strider had even moved in the last five hours and found him absent from his chair. Frowning, she scanned the bar, unsuccessfully trying to locate him. _He'll be in the bathroom, just because I've never seen him pee, doesn't mean he simply does not do it._ She shuddered at the bombardment of disturbing imagery.

Then she saw him standing at the counter, conversing with one, greasy little man. Let's just say that he wasn't the brightest crayon in the pack. Like some other inhabitants of Bree, he was covered in a film of grime. Elizabeth pictured him being in a commercial for Vanish! Trust pink! Where he took a dip in a bath of dirt-remover and came out clean as a whistle.

"What is he talking to that guy for?" She muttered, viewing the scene with a vague interest. The man looked agitated, pointing a grubby finger in her direction every now and then. Strider was angry. Mouth grimacing, nostrils flaring and a fire lit behind his eyes. The man stumbled away, firing profanities in every direction, and Strider stormed back to his seat beside Elizabeth. "What was that about?" She demanded.

"That was Bill Ferny..." He, A pause. "He requested to know your... price."

"My price? Price for what?"

"The less you know, the better."

"Nah, that doesn't fly with me. My price for what? Bread? Fairy dust?" He sat down, facing the open hearth, sucking on the pipe, legs stretched out.

"Sometimes, an imprisonment camp stops just outside the town's limits. If you find a guard willing to be bribed, for a certain sum, he will let you have your pick of the young ones."

She gaped. "And... and he thought, that I... I was one of those young ones?" He nodded gravely, not really paying much attention to her. He had scared him thoroughly, enough to leave her alone. He profoundly hoped. She had a hard time believing that those type of things existed. _If he comes over again, I'll... I'll do something. How very dare he! It shall involve my trusty pepper spray!_

The night eventually followed the twilight, the waxing moon making an appearance from behind the grey clouds, casting Bree in a silvery moonlight through the sheets of rain, giving it a sinister appeal. Elizabeth was dozing in the corner, lips slightly parted. He looked over at her and wished that the Hobbits would hurry themselves, she was the epitome of weariness. It must have been hard for her, miles away from home, roaming the woodland with a total stranger and, from her non-existing survival skills, inexperience. He wrapped her borrowed cloak tighter around her. His own cloak had it's hood up, shadowing all distinguishable features. The regular drunks shambled in, laughing loudly at their own jokes, apparently already intoxicated by their own means.

The door opened, snapping her awake. Yes, it was the moment she had been waiting for; the four hobbits stepped in, soaking wet and tired to the bone. Although still drowsy from sleep, she had a secret fangirl moment. Butterbur leaned over the counter, "Good evening, little masters! What will you be wanting? If you're looking for a room, we have a few hobbit-sized beds, always a pleasure to serve the little folk. Mr...?"

She stretched, staring at them_. Aww! There's Sam! He's adorable! Not like the actor though. Didn't expect them to be so small!_ "Underhill, my name is Underhill," said Frodo quickly. "We are friends of Gandalf the grey; can you tell him we've arrived?" She glanced around the room, even though she knew he wouldn't be here.

"Haven't seen Gandalf in six months." Said Butterbur sadly.

"We shall wait for him then, if it isn't too much trouble."_ I love this feeling of almighty power! I know what's going to happen before it happens! I could tell them I am an all-knowing seer from the west, bringing great knowledge of the Ring's future. I suppose Stridy wouldn't let me, spoilsport..._

The innkeeper had promised the hobbits dinner, so they sat at a table on the opposite side of the room from her. Conversing in hushed tones, each of them shifting uncomfortably in soaking clothes. It was all very surreal, to be seeing characters of fiction in flesh and blood. They glanced around warily, like a rabid dog was about to bite them. She inspected them all as several meals were brought from the kitchens and presented before them. Strider was watching too.

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><p><strong>Hope you all like it! Don't forget to review!<strong>


	4. Of Invented Weapons and Baths

**Chapter Four: Of Invented Weapons and Baths**

_**"When the last moon is cast over the last star of morning,  
>And the future has passed without even a last desperate warning,<br>Then look into the sky where through the clouds a path is torn,  
>Look and see her how she sparkles, it's the last unicorn."<br>- America, The Last Unicorn.**_

_Oh, good God..._ Thought Elizabeth. She had never seen someone so little, eat so much food in one go. All the hobbits were eating feverishly, stuffing whole hunks of bread in their mouths, washing it down with huge swigs of water. By this time, she was extremely uninterested in watching small people eating and drinking, so she emptied the contents of her bag onto the table and looked for something else to do. The contents of her bag included a wallet, apple Chapstick, drivers license, the abominable phone, Tic Tacs, iPod, pepper spray and an elastic band.

She pinged the elastic band at Strider. It bounced off him harmlessly, but he glared at her anyway while she was trying to contain her giggles. She ate the Tic Tacs next, then applied the Chapstick. I really need to plan ahead. At last, the four finished their meal, rubbing full stomachs happily and drinking ale. She watched jealously as they raised the alcohol to parched lips. "It's not the day any more, does that mean you'll let me have a proper drink?"

"No."

She hated not being able to buy things for herself. Independence was her virtue. The hobbit she presumed was Merry had returned from the bar, carrying a big mug of ale. "What's that?" She heard one, probably Pippin, say faintly.

"This, my friend, is a pint." She smiled. At last, something mildly exiting. She packed everything away, keeping a tab on Strider, who was still sitting where he was an hour ago; feet by the fire, eyes scrutinizing ahead (Though you could hardly tell, most of his face was in shadow, which she thought was a better look for him).

"They come in pints?" Squeaked Pippin. I'm getting one. He scrambled out of his chair, determined to match the boldness of his friend. She sighed. Why was everyone drinking except her? Still, she was grateful for all that Strider had done for her. God knows where she'd be if he hadn't found her.

"Excuse me," She heard Frodo say, "The man in the corner and the woman he's with, who are they?"

"The man's known as Strider. We call the him Longshanks, he's one of them rangers. No one's ever seen the woman before. Some are saying he picked her up at that camp, but I think she's from the south, strange folk down there." He drifted away, leaving Frodo very curious and a little light-headed. She knew eavesdropping was bad, but Sam did it and he got to go on the quest. Moral of the story? Eavesdropping can lead to good things, so she listened on. Frodo had gained an odd expression, fiddling with the chain ensnaring his neck.

"Baggins? I know a Baggins!"_ I remember this bit. I get to see Strider go all psycho on him!_ Frodo snapped out of his trance and saw Pippin talking to a group of men, he indicated where this particular Baggins sat, ogling at his friends idiocy. "He's over there! Frodo Baggins, he's my second cousin, once removed from his mother's side."

Frodo sprang from his chair, "Pippin! Stop!" He darted over, knocking some of the frothy liquid out of his cousins tankard.

"Steady on, Frodo!" He slipped on the spilled beer, crashing to the ground. The Ring went flying into the air. It was all very still for a moment. This was a part that Elizabeth never understood; how could the ring simply _fall _onto someone's finger? But here she was, watching it happen. The gold band did take a tumble onto the young hobbit's finger. In doing so, he completely vanished. Many people shouted in confusion, others believed it to be a party trick. He reappeared under a table, breathing hard, chest heaving up and down. He had the look of one whom had just epically battled with a bear and won.

Strider swiftly rose from his spot by the hearth, face still veiled by the hood pulled well over his head. He seized the hobbit by the collar, "You draw too much attention to yourself," Mr. Underhill. He snarled, dragging Frodo down the corridor.

"'Don't be conspicuous'", he says. "What is _that_, if not conspicuous?" She muttered. She pushed through the throngs of men gathered where the scene had taken place and into the hallway, listening intently for voices. Unfortunately, many people had rented rooms for the night.

"...I've told you before, it's a fine line between cuddling and holding them down so they can't get away..."

"...Hope that's not infected..."

"...No, darling. That necklace is mine..."

Finally, she tuned in on, what she prayed, the right spectacle. "...Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

_Okay, enough is enough. I've waited patiently for hours on end to meet them. Beam me up, Scotty._ She shoved the door open and said, "Unhand him, you cad!" Trying not to snicker.

Strider glared at her, then sighed, "Elizabeth-"

"I know, I know, you were trying to be fierce and in charge and whatnot but I've waited for ages without complaint. So can I please have my fun?" Frodo looked mystified and terrified all at once. She cleared her throat. "Ahem, Frodo the Hobbit. I am the Omnipotent seer and prophetess from the west! I have come to deliver a message of great importance; the creatures that stalk you in the night desire the One Ring you carry-"

"You are not frightened enough," interrupted Strider, exasperated.

"Hey! I was getting to that!" She huffed.

There was a bump outside, followed by, "I'll go first, then!" They both drew swords. She sighed, knowing what was coming. The door swung open to exhibit the other three halfling's, sporting odd weapons. She wasn't really sure how effective a candlestick and chair would be against a sharp, pointy sword. "Hi!" She said cheerfully.

They stopped momentarily in their tracks. Sam shook out of it, "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

He sheathed his sword, smiling faintly. "You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that alone won't save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard. They are coming."

"Who are you both?" Merry asked, giving them both a once-over.

"You may know me as Strider. This is-"

"I'm Elizabeth, prophetess of the west." She beamed, "Pleasure to meet ya."

Strider rubbed his temples. "She is not a prophetess. She is my sister, travelling from Rohan."

She glowered at him, "Spoil my fun, why don't you..."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Frodo asked, putting his own sword away.

"I know Gandalf the grey, he has been a friend of mine for many years."

"What about you?" Pippin piped up.

"What about me?" She said.

"Should we trust you?"

"Of course! I happen to be incredibly trustworthy. I know of your past and future events."

Pippin's eyes went as wide as saucers, "Like a seer?"

She winked, "Absolutely."

Strider spoke urgently. "We must move our sleeping arrangements to the next door inn and set up a diversion..."

* * *

><p>"As completely random plans go, I'd say this was a pretty good one." She commented from her seat at the window, watching the street for signs of life.<p>

They had relocated to the Harlot's tavern, which she felt was an inappropriate name. She got her bath in the end, hardly recognized who it was when she saw herself in the looking glass after a long hot soak; the dye had mainly faded, showing dark brown roots. Her skin had paled and seemed clearer, feasibly from lack of make up. _Hahaha! Lost weight! The medieval diet has benefits!_ She struck a super hero pose, using the cloak like a cape. Light brown eyes stared back under thick eyelashes. _Not beautiful. Maybe attractive, if I tried a little harder. _High cheekbones from her father, wide hips, ample bosom and strong muscles from her mother. _Eh, we're in Middle Earth. Nobody's going to care what I look like, anyway. Unless I'm in a fanfic, where I'll be a treasure of the elves and doing the horizontal tango with Leggy by the end of the day._ That made her giggle.

She had obeyed Strider's plan without questions, for once. Only because she knew it had to be done, and now they sat in the tavern opposite, watching. The hobbits were fascinated with her. They seldom saw big people, yet alone a human woman. "I like her." Whispered Pippin to Sam, as she pestered Strider like a small child.

"You always like girls." Sam muttered.

"...I'm just sayin', a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle-"

"I believe it's time to go to bed." Said Strider, "For all of you."

"Fine, fine. I can tell when it's time for me to shut up." They all slept relatively peacefully, especially Elizabeth (who hadn't slumbered in an actual bed for weeks), except for when they briefly woke to listen to some Ringwraiths making an attempt to slaughter their pillow-doubles while they dreamed.

Frodo was awake, standing at the window. "What are they?"

"They were once men." Strider said, "Great kings of men, then Sauron the deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. They are now slaves to his will." They glimpsed the five as they galloped away, screeching with rage.

* * *

><p>Strider had taken them out of Bree and back into anonymous territory. Elizabeth did not like this. She was still dressed in her shorts and shirt, refusing Strider's cloak. "I don't need it now we're not in Bree! No one's going to take offence to kinky shirts when WE'RE NOT GOING TO MEET ANYONE!" She near shouted the last part. She was getting tired with the same routine. She chose to walk at the back, leading Bill the pony. "Poor baby", She murmured to him.<p>

"Where are you taking to us?" implored Frodo.

"Into the wild," was the reply.

"_Fergalicious, definition, make them boys go loco-_"

"What's loco?" Asked Pippin.

"It means crazy", she informed them, kindly.

"If I might ask you, Miss, where are you from?" Sam said, timidly.

"Like Strider said, I'm from, um, Rohan." She then spouted off some more lyrics, making the majority blush. After a time of much singing and covering of ears (she did not have the most graceful voice), she requested that she have one of Sam's frying pans. He handed one over reluctantly, being a tiny bit scared of what she would do if he refused. "Thanks." She suddenly enveloped him in a big hug, "You were always my favourite, Sam!"

That left him blushing and wondering what she meant. "Must be something seers do." They all thought her to be a seer, despite what Strider said. _Now I have my frying pan, all I need is a large stick... Aha!_ She spotted the perfect one lying a few meters away. She proceeded to whittle the end to a, hopefully, deadly point. W_ell, at least I'll be safe from vampires. I need some duct tape. Dammit! String will have to do._ She took some from Merry's pack when he wasn't looking, though Pip did and he snorted. Fifteen minutes later, she had a flawless weapon of combat.

"What's that?" said Pippin, awestruck.

"This," She stopped for dramatic effect, "is a Frick. The bashing power of a frying pan, with the stabbing accuracy of a large, pointy stick." She was rather proud about constructing a weapon out of almost nothing, save for Sam's frying pan.

Chetwood, she decided, wasn't as annoying and quiet as the previous forest, but was a close contender in terms of trippy-up tree roots. What really pissed her off, was that she could feel her monthly's were around the corner. Cramps plagued her lower abdomen and she was irritable and bitchy for 80% of the day. This didn't make her a happy camper. She sang for the remaining 20%. By the time they reached Midgewater Marshes she was thoroughly ready to skin someone alive. Strider was still leading them across when the hobbits all stopped and set down their packs. He glanced back, intrigued as why they thought they were stopping. "Gentlemen? We do not stop until nightfall."

Pippin answered, "What about breakfast?"

"You've already had it."

"We've had one, yes. But what about second breakfast?"

Elizabeth chuckled when Strider stared blankly, then turned away, shaking his head. She hurried to catch up, wanting to where he got the apples. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip." Merry said sadly.

"What about Elvenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them... doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it." They all looked very glum. Elizabeth sniggered from behind some shrubbery, poised to throw. The first came sailing out from the dense undergrowth, followed by the second. Merry caught his deftly. Pippin's hit him on the forehead. She pelted them with as many as she could, laughing breathlessly at the panicked expressions. She eventually collapsed on the ground from laughter. The others were too busy picking up apples to notice.

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	5. Of Darkness and Fruitcakes

**Chapter Five: Of Darkness and Fruitcakes.**

_**"You're on your own now, we won't save you,**_  
><em><strong>your rescue-squad is too exhausted,<strong>_  
><em><strong>and if you complain once more,<br>you'll meet an army of me."  
>- <em>Björk<em>, Army of Me.**_

"You really are a fruitcake, you know that?" She remarked, heaving herself up onto a nearby rock to rest.

"No, I didn't. Why, may I ask, am I a 'fruitcake'?"

"I'm not telling." _Sometimes, it's highly amusing to annoy people._ She didn't even have a reason for him being a fruitcake. He just was.

"So, where are we going?" Asked Pippin, bounding after the ranger. She dragged herself off the rock, ignoring the throbbing in her feet and the aching in her legs. They had been walking for what felt like years. Elizabeth's cramps had increased on the pain scale as well as her general bitchiness and they were all tired and miserable. Strider wasn't harsh, but his long steps were hard to keep up with, pride got in the way of telling him they couldn't keep up.

"We are resting tonight at Weathertop. He indicated a hill not so far away. It was once the great watchtower of Amon Sul." _Rest? Thank God, I was beginning to think-_ "I couldn't help but notice you are carrying little." Called Strider from up ahead.

She grinned. "Nah, I'm carrying my amazingness. It weighs a ton." It was true, she hadn't packed much into her bag and chose to carry it rather than burden Bill.

"Where of your possessions?" He pressed.

She shrugged, wincing as her torso ached. "I didn't come here with much to begin with."

He contemplated this for a moment. "You are wise to travel light. You are unlike any woman I have seen." She let this slide, not really know how to react. She still held her Frick, despite his attempt to give her a proper weapon; a small, shiny dagger, deciding the smooth steel would be completely useless against anything, unless it was within reaching distance. _A Frick is much more practical. Buffy would be proud._

The sun was slowly setting over the horizon when they collapsed on the ground to rest. All were exhausted, Strider being the exception. She didn't think much of Weathertop. To her, it was sad to see the once magnificent watchtower reduced to a circle of rubble. The view was spectacular. (Spectacular, except for the five Ringwraiths that were most likely stalking the countryside.) Her heart was heavy from knowing of what was to come that night. Squaring her shoulders, she thought, _If they lay one... Hand? Claw? What do Nazgul have? Anyway, if they harm me, they will fear the wrath of Alan!_ Alan being the name of her weapon, of course.

"These are for you." Said Strider, dumping 4 small swords at their feet. "Keep them close. I'm going to have a look around. Stay here." The hobbits picked them up awkwardly, never had they handled real swords before.

"How inconsiderate, not leaving one for me!" She muttered.

"I thought you didn't want one?" Said Merry.

"I don't, but it's the principle that counts." She said, sighing. "Tell me of the Shire, then. I've heard it's very, um, green." She knew perfectly well about the Shire, but they looked so crestfallen that maybe speaking of their homeland would help. They told her. Boy, did they tell her. They talked of the Brandywine river and the parties and a million other wonderful things. Though it warmed her heart to see their faces lit up with joy at the thought of home, the weariness got the better of her and she dozed off, Frodo still singing praises of Bag End.

"Frodo! You sent her to sleep!" Said Merry, laughing.

"She is funny. She knows of so many things, yet seems to not know, or not to tell, much about herself or her homelands." Murmured Sam. _("Can you not tell us of your home, Miss. Elizabeth?"_

_"Erm, not really. Been sworn to secrecy. You know how the government gets.")_

She mumbled in her sleep, something that sounded suspiciously like 'In the Jungle'. Frodo succumbed to sleep soon after, body twinging from hours of hiking. Sam, Pippin and Merry however had different ideas. As we all know, Hobbits are hungry things and have 7 meals a day, so when Frodo awoke he was alarmed to find the 3 huddling over a small fire, food sizzling in a pan.

"What are you doing?" Cried Frodo, Elizabeth still being conked out.

"Tomatoes, sausages and nice, crispy bacon." Replied Merry happily.

"We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, holding out a plate in offering. She stretched out sleepily, acutely aware of the cold earth that she used as a bed still being exceedingly bitter. Frodo desperately tried to kick dirt over the fire, striving to smother the flames.

"Oh, that's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!" Said Pippin, mourning the loss of his fruit.

She got up, snapping straight into action as the unearthly shriek pierced her ears. _Shit!_ She struggled to stand, searching for Strider who wasn't there. She saw them before they did. Five figures hooded in black. "Mr. Tolkien is so going to pay." She mumbled as the mist started creeping in smoky tendrils. _How cliché. Mist, full moon and the five psycho killing machines wanting to destroy us. Perfect._

"Go!" Screamed Frodo, pushing them into a ring of broken stones. She whipped out the Frick, her blood running cold as they approached. She froze, hardly daring to breathe, utterly rooted to the spot. Her only thought was of how this was all happening far too quickly. The Ringwraiths glided in, clasping gleaming swords. Adrenaline pumped into her bloodstream, making it easier to move her sleep-ridden limbs. She clung to Alan, aware of the knowledge that the Frick would be no match for the sharp blades. She shivered.

"Back you devils!" Sam shouted, swinging his sword bravely, lacking skill. The Nazgul blocked the blow effortlessly, shattering it. A fist connected with Sam's stomach, sending him flying into a wall. Merry and Pippin were overcome with horror, but stood valiantly in front of Frodo, striving to protect him. They didn't triumph. They were swatted aside like two particularly bothersome insects, leaving Elizabeth to face the advancing Wraiths. Frodo staggered backwards. The fear was ice on her willpower. Never in her life had she been this afraid. All five were clad in hooded cloaks, hands in metal gauntlets, feet in metal boots.

_Even fear cannot stand in the way of one who is lost..._ The thought came to her unbidden and tickled at the back of her head, but unfortunately, it reached her too late; one Wraith grew impatient with her dithering and bulldozed her with the force of, well, of a bulldozer. She fell, scraping her hands and knees, suddenly very angry. She stood up and retaliated by clobbering one on the back of the head. It didn't like that one bit. Turning, it lashed out with it's sword, missing her by a hairs width.

She looked back at Frodo, who had a glazed look about him as he pulled out the Ring from his pocket. The Nazgul forged ahead, allowing it's companions to deal with the Halfling. That sword was looking awfully sharp. _Changed my mind. Strider's not the fruitcake, it's Frodo. I can't change what's going to happen. No telling what would come about._ She did her best to appear like she knew what she was doing, preparing for the worst, when a alarming screech of excitement broke from under their hoods. Frodo had faded from sight, all five of them descending on where he had been. She jabbed one with the stick. It took no notice.

She flung herself at it, taking it completely off guard. They went down, it easily overpowered her, making shallow cuts on her arms and legs where it could. At least it didn't want to kill her. It wasn't her it wanted. She yelled in pain as a shallow stream of blood trickled down her legs and arms.

"You little bitch!" She kicked upwards, gaining enough leverage to scramble to her feet. "STRIDER! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LUNATIC?" She yelled into the night. She knew he would materialize, but not when or where. The Nazgul was on it's feet and, judging her to not be much of a threat, ignored her entirely, which she thought to be quite rude.

"No!" Voiced Sam, regaining consciousness from his knock to the skull and she perceived that the Morgul blade had pierced Frodo's flesh. A cry came from behind her. Strider charged at the Nazgul with fire and steel, setting one alight, a bright beacon against the starless night. It wailed with pain and rage, fleeing into the blackness. Strider slashed against the remaining three, Elizabeth doing her best to help, knocking them on their covered heads and glaring at them for cutting her legs and arms.

"About time you showed up!" She dodged a strike clumsily. They finally ran from the blaze, following their comrade into the darkness, screaming shrilly.

"Frodo!"

"Mr. Frodo!" He had taken the Ring off and was moaning with pain. The hobbit's, with the threat of painful death removed, ran to his side and gathered around him. Strider knelt, snatching up the dagger from the ground. She stood to the side, apprehensive. She didn't know him. Not really. She was still scared, trembling like a leaf in the wind._ He really doesn't look so good._

"Help him, Strider!" Pleaded Sam.

"He has been stabbed by a Morgul blade," He said grimly._ At least I know he'll be alright. He REALLY doesn't look very healthy. Sort of like hypothermia without going blue._

"Do something!" Sam begged. The dagger melted, dissolving into the air like smoke. Strider threw the hilt down in disgust

"This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine," he said, lifting Frodo onto his shoulders.

* * *

><p>"Hurry!" He called. Sam, Merry and Pippin run to keep up, blundering into debris on the path. She jogged behind them all, carrying a flaming torch, doing her best to reassure and comfort.<p>

"He'll never make it!" Cried Sam.

"Don't be a pessimist! He will, just you watch," she said, patting him on the back.

"Gandalf... Gandalf?"

"Where?" She said, alarmed, _Oh. He isn't here. I'm such an idiot at times._ Strider set him down amongst the foliage. Frodo's eyes were clouded and red-rimmed, like he was looking at something far away. His brow was beaded with sweat, lips open as if to speak and his breathing shallow and laboured.

"Is he going to die?" Asked Pippin. Strider looked out into the darkness.

"No! Don't be a muffin!" She scolded. _But what if he DOES die? What if things can change?_ She hurriedly dismissed that thought to the back of her mind.

"No, he won't die. He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a Wraith like them."

"How is that NOT DYING! That'll be worst than dead!" She stopped. "But he won't be like them. We won't let him." A distant cry of a Nazgul carried through the air. "Speak of the devil..." She muttered.

"They're close." Merry said, nervously. Frodo gasped in pain, drawing closer to the shadow realm.

"Strider-"

"I'm thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself." She muttered.

He turned a blind eye, "Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?"

"Athelas?" He looked blank.

"Kingsfoil?"

"Kingsfoil, aye, it's a weed!" He said.

"It may help to slow the poison. Hurry!"

Elizabeth sat down by Bill, stroking the pony's nose reflectively. "Hey, Bill." She whispered softly while Strider and Sam combed the woodland floor for the small, white flowering plant. "In the film, I always thought you were going to turn evil and eat everyone." She confided. "Now I've met you, I know you would never want me as a snack." Merry and Pippin glanced at her worriedly. Bill nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

Strider found what he had been seeking. He plucked the small creamy flower from the greenery. A sword point at his throat. "What's this? A ranger caught off his guard?"

Frodo lay on the ground, sweat glistening on his face, eyes misted over. A shimmering figure cantered out of the trees on a white horse. _This must be Arwen. She's gorgeous, I can see why Strider likes her. If I played for the other team, I'd give him a run for his money._

_"Im Arwen... telin let thaed."_ **(I am Arwen... I have come to help you.)** She said gently. She was dressed in dark green clothes and a scratch or two on her face. She was the kind of beautiful that made Elizabeth feel inferior by being in her presence. Her skin almost glowed and her skin was pale and flawless, like the surface of a bowl of cream. Her dark hair was partially pulled back and plaited and her grey eyes mirrored worry, studying Frodo intently. "_Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad._"** (Hear my voice, come back to the light.)**

Pippin tugged on Elizabeth's t-shirt, "Who is she?"

"Frodo?" Arwen said.

"She's an Elf!" Said Sam in surprise.

"He is fading, he's not going to last. We must get him to my father." Strider lifted Frodo onto the horses saddle. Arwen's eyes rested on her, inquisitive and wondering. Elizabeth stared back with an equally curious gaze. Neither one spoke. With a nod, Arwen began talking to Strider in the elvish tongue.

"Confuzzled." Sighed Elizabeth. The very shallow cuts on her limbs had stopped bleeding. She was reminded of paper cuts with a lemon juice topping.

"Where are you taking him?" Inquired Pippin. The elf and man paid him no heed.

"To Rivendell, I should think. Which is where we're all heading anyway. Hey," She said gingerly, catching the hobbit's eyes, "He's going to be fine. Trust me." The funny thing was, even when Arwen took Frodo with her and a scream could be heard in the night, they all did their best to believe her.


	6. Of Interruptions and Eyebrows

**Chapter Six: Of Interruptions and Eyebrows**

_**"Fully alive,**_  
><em><strong>More than most,<strong>_  
><em><strong>Ready to smile and love life,<strong>_  
><em><strong>Fully alive and she knows,<strong>_  
><em><strong>How to believe in futures."<br>- Flyleaf, Fully Alive.**_

Rivendell, as Elizabeth found out, was a very beautiful place. The air smelled sweet and fresh, the water cool and glittering in the sunlight. She felt dirty in the vast cleanliness of the paths and houses. It was hidden from view at first, hiding in the heather-covered moors, then she spotted a zig-zag path leading down into the valley. Fir trees grew on the higher slopes and beech and oak trees grew further down. _And yet again, I am in need of a bath._

As apparently promised, horses were sent for them, if it wasn't for the tension she would have enjoyed riding, something she hadn't done in years. The horses were swift and smooth, carrying them without harm to the valley. She was determined not to fall straight asleep. "I will _not_ become a Mary-sue, I will _not_ become a Mary-sue." She chanted drowsily. Elves were waiting to take their horses, looking at them sympathetically. She was showed to a room painted white. A nightgown lay on the bed, and, not caring how filthy she was, she ignored the gown entirely, choosing to clamber into bed in unwashed clothes. When the handmaid came to check on her an hour later, she nearly had a fit about the state of the sheets, dressing her in the nightwear, regardless of sleepy protests.

* * *

><p>She awoke refreshed. When the sun's rays touched the tops of the trees and streamed through her window, Elizabeth shivered as if pink and gold fingers were creeping stealthily up her spine. Her mouth felt like a nest of wasps had set up a nest and gone busily about their day. "Mmmruuphr," she croaked.<p>

"Ah, you are awake." Said a voice by the window.

She wanted to make a witty comeback to the person unknown, but all her tired mind could think of was, "Mmm?" She couldn't remember the last time she had slept for so long, after all, romping through muddy hills and unwieldy forests wasn't her idea of fun and the ground was less than comfortable. She lifted her head to peer at the speaker. He had a long white beard, bushy eyebrows and kindly blue eyes that were surrounded by light wrinkles that crinkled as he smiled. He wore a blue pointed hat (She resisted the urge to shout, Pointy hat trick! ), a silver scarf and a long grey cloak. Could this possibly be Gandalf? "Mmm!" She repeated, flopping back down on the pillow.

"Come now, I've been waiting to talk to you for over an hour." He said gently, pulling up a chair closer to her. She sat up.

"So," she said, cringing at the rasping of her throat. "You must be Gandalf."

He smiled warmly, "He said you have knowledge of Middle Earth."

She fiddled with the sleeve of the nightgown. "Yes." Silence ensured.

"You're not one for talking, are you?" He said after a while.

"I've hit a Ringwraith with the blunt end of Alan. I'm allowed to be a little bit preoccupied." _Okay, this isn't going too well. Well noticed, maybe you should stop being a moody bitch. Shut up! I said I wasn't going to have sarcastic conversations with myself any more._

"Um, How do you do, Gandalf?" She asked, doing her best to block out what her mind was telling her. _How do wizards greet each other? Do they bow? Hug? Give each other cake? I hope it's cake._ He clasped her hand in his with a unexpectedly strong grip. _Ah, a handshake it is._

"I am very well, thank you." He paused. "You have not yet requested to know why I am at your bedside."

"Hey, you're a wizard, right? I figured if you wanted me to know, you would have told me."

He grinned wryly, "Indeed, I will tell you of my intentions. First, though, I think it might be wise for you to be up and dressed. Many are curious about the foreigner who rode in with four Hobbits and a man."

"Fantastic."

"I shall leave you too it, I will meet you in the dining hall." He left, leaving her a little confused at the current situation._ Alrighty, where's the nearest bath?_

* * *

><p>The water was most invigorating, filled with flower petals and scented oils. It was the first time in weeks that she felt fully clean, not the half-way clean she felt at Bree. She scrubbed her pale skin, determined to erase every molecule of dirt on her body. She used a sharp knife-like tool, that was clearly meant for a man to shave his face, on her legs and armpits. Her legs weren't exactly smooth with all the cuts that marred them, but at least they were hairless.<p>

A dress was waiting for her on the bed. A very, very pretty dress. "Really, a dress?" She said to no one in particular. The dress was dark blue, with delicate embroidery at the hem and collar and bell-like sleeves. The moment she slipped it over her head, she knew it would be too small. The She-Elves may be taller, but they are slim and dainty. God had been generous in the bosom and hip department, so it was a small miracle when the fabric descended over her body. She took a look in the mirror and winced. She didn't look bad, in fact it was rather flattering.

Alas, it was flattering it all the wrong ways. It hugged her breasts, making them stand out. It clung to her hips, making her feel small and dumpy. Her hair hung to the centre of her shoulder blades, now dark in colour and still wet from the bath. Looking around for a jacket or cloak to cover herself. The only thing she could find was a cloak; a tatty, frayed thing that Strider had lent her. _Probably should start calling him Aragorn now. Now, which way to the dining hall? I could eat a horse, I'm so bloody hungry._

She considered for a moment. "Eh, Gandalf won't mind if I do some exploring first. I mean, does he expect me to run straight too him like a dog?" I think not. She said to herself, opening the door to reality.

"I'm going out tonight, I'm feelin' alright, Gonna let it all hang out," She broke into song. Nothing like singing 'I Feel Like a Woman' to make yourself feel less self-conscious about wearing a tight, dress. "Want to make some noise, really raise my voice. Yeah, I want to scream and shout..." She belted it out, thinking there was no one around to hear the poor rendition of the tune. She skipped ahead to the chorus, "Want to be free, yeah, feel the way I feel. Man! I feel like a woman!"

Upon finding the all doors on the corridor locked or uninviting, she shrugged and walked out of the structure and into one of many gardens, with beautiful, exotic flowers and ancient trees. Not having any clue where she was and how to get anywhere, let alone the dining hall, she sat on one of many benches, hoping that it wasn't some personal shrine to whatever deity they worshipped. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh air and sweet wild flowers. It made her quite giddy. "The best thing about being a woman, is the prerogative to have a little fun!" She vocalized, squashing the urge to jump up and dance.

_I'm here, in Imladris! Every fangirls dream!_ She grinned, forgetting all thoughts of getting home._ Tee hee!_ She closed her eyes, allowing her consciousness to drift away to another place. The 'other' place happened to be a little fantasy about hitting her employer with a stapler. Back home, she had been raising money to get herself to university with a good writers program by working various temp jobs. The most recent was her being a support IT technician while the girl she was filling in for was on maternity leave. The boss was an arrogant, stupid, fat cat of a man. She was hardly complaining of having a job, even if it was temping, and earning a decent living, but she REALLY hated that man. In her mind it was beautiful. The stapler knocked him on the bonce, giving him a comical expression that one only sees in slapstick comedy. He fell to the floor, still wearing a mask of implicit confusion.

Giggling a little at the morbid humour of her imagination, she traced blind patterns on the rock. "Go totally crazy, forget I'm a lady-"

Much to her embarrassment, she never got to finish the song. A playfully teasing voice said, "Are you sure that song is appropriate?" She started, and verbalized a yelp. _Ah, well. Dignity will have to be regained late_r. She raised her eyes to find the speaker. He was undoubtedly an elf. He was tall, dark-haired, grey-eyed, and fair of face.

"Can I help you?" She asked, cheeks coloured as evidence of her embarrassment.

The elf smiled, "Gandalf sent me to find you."

"Oh." _Good Lord, is today the day of awkward silences? Or am I just socially inept?_

She feared it was probably the latter. "It is etiquette to offer your name when you meet someone for the first time." He prompted, grinning, clearly enjoying making her uncomfortable.

"I'm Liquorice." She said, rather out of the blue. The train of thought that she followed was this; If he was intelligent, he'd know that she was lying. Regrettably, that train ran her over. _Damn, now he'll think I'm insane and there are too many people who already think that._ He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, it's Elizabeth. I was reading a book where the main character was called Liquorice, so I had it on the brain." His eyebrow kept ascending, which triggered the light bulb affect in her head. _Aha! I know who this is! There is only one, well, two other people who can do that besides Lord Elrond._ "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but would you be one of the son's of Elrond?"_ Please be right, please be right, please be right..._

Both eyebrows were now up. _Houston, we have eyebrow-off._ "You are correct. I am Elladan." His lips quirked upwards, "Never have I been recognized on sight before. The tales of my expertly executed harlequinade have spread."

"Sure."

"Which brings me to my point."

"You had a point?" She stood up from the bench, hands dusting off imaginary specks of lint from her lap.

"Yes. I don't go around talking to people for no reason. Now-"

"I thought Gandalf sent you to find me."

"He did, but-"

"So why aren't you taking me to the dining hall?"

"I will do in a minute, first-"

"Then-"

"Will you please let me finish!"

"...Sorry."

He cleared his throat and began again, 'Stop being so difficult' written all over his face. "I have something to ask of you. As I'm certain you're aware, my brother and I greatly relish the chance to make people look like fools. Especially our father. Do you catch my drift?" She didn't, but nodded anyway. "I need someone with an innocent face to do something for me..."

Elizabeth thought that the plan was mindbogglingly brilliant. He showed her to a great hall with tables abundant with breakfast foods. Many heads turned curiously to watch them enter. She had never felt more on show. Blinking owlishly at the too-attractive faces, she searched for familiar people amongst strangers. She found them almost immediately. Gandalf was sitting patiently with the Hobbits (Minus Frodo), two of whom were waving at her excitedly.

"Remember what I said." Whispered Elladan, close to her ear, his hair brushing her shoulder. She began to walk over to her companions, almost tripping over the hem of her dress. Merry and Pippin jumped up from their seats and ran to her.

"Elizabeth! We thought you'd never wake up!" Said Pippin, giving her a one-armed hug. _Whoa, where did this affection come from? Didn't think they liked me enough to miss me._

"How long was I asleep?" She questioned, returning the embrace.

"Since yesterday afternoon. You were really tired." Merry answered, leading her over to the table.

_This is like being Rebecca Black on a Friday,_ she thought, upon seeing how many chairs were available. They had chosen to sit at the biggest table in the room and several Elves were seated at the opposite end. "It's Friday, Friday." She hummed. _I hate that song. Why must it be so catchy?_

"Actually, it's Saturday." Gandalf informed her, "October 23rd, if you want to know." Elizabeth, unsurprisingly, wasn't listening. She had laden her plate with fruits, breads and other matters that interested her. Let's just say that she ate worse than some breed of wild animal. The rest of the party watched her with a horrible fascination. The wizard coughed. "So, as I was going to say, before you started devouring everything edible in sight, I wish to speak with you concerning your past and future."

"Okay." She agreed through a mouthful of bread.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, "This is the conclusion I have come to: I have spoken with Aragorn about you and he told me that our universe was fiction in yours. Correct?" She nodded, taking a gulp of water. "Which would mean that the author would have been in this world to write a book on it. Assuming this man was actually here and did not receive visions or dreams and the like. You walked through- well, I'm not really sure. My best guess is a sort of a wormhole, connecting both realms. Do you think this is round about accurate?" Pip, Merry and Sam gazed at him in wonder, completely in awe at the possibility of another world, yet alone them being connected. Elizabeth finished her orgy of eating, mulling over what he had said.

Wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin, she crossed and then uncrossed her legs uncomfortably. "What about this theory; I got hit over the head with something heavy and now I'm dreaming. You're all just my imagination." She said.

"Aragorn said you tried pinching yourself."

"I did. Maybe I'm just really, really deeply asleep. Or dead."

"How can you be dead? You're right in front of me!" Said Merry, frowning. Pippin appeared to be distressed that she could be deceased.

"Perhaps my mind manifested itself into a physical form."

Gandalf inclined his head, "I will not rule out the possibility, but I believe it to be unlikely. This whole matter is very interesting."

"I'm glad my misfortune interests you." She muttered, feeling a little more out of place. She turned to Sam. "So you never really believed I was Strider's sister?"

He shook his head, "No offence meant, Miss, but you don't really look like a lady from Rohan."

"So much for my amazing acting skills."

"It wasn't that. It was your clothes."

"Oh! Well, couldn't really have helped that." She downed the rest of the water.

"Just how much do you know of why we are here?" Gandalf asked, turning an apple over in his hands.

"Well, I know about the One Ring. I know that there will be a fellowship to destroy it. I know that my favourite colour is blue. I know that birth control pills work on Gorillas-"

"About Middle Earth!"

"Okay, I know about Isildur and how he couldn't destroy the ring, about Gollum, about how Aragorn is heir to the throne of Gondor-" The doors to the hall suddenly opened and all rose. The elf who had entered was clearly one of status. He wore dark velvet robes and a diadem upon his head. Like most elves, his hair was partly plaited and long. His eyes were grey and very deep, like they could take in the whole world in one glance.

_You know, I wish I could say something without being interrupted. Matrix for the win!_ Out loud, she said, "Why hello, Mr. Smith."


	7. Of Intoxication and Coconuts

**Chapter Seven: Of Intoxication and Coconuts**

_**"Ratty, you're a big rat, smart rat,**_  
><em><strong>Scratching with your claws,<br>Gonna to spread you some Plague some day,**_  
><em><strong>Come on get on the stage, let out your rage<br>Nobody gonna put you back into your cage.**_  
><em><strong>Tea will rock you,<br>Tea will rock you."  
>- Emilie Autumn, Tea Will Rock You.<strong>_

After the incident of calling Lord Elrond, 'Mr. Smith', everyone in the room gave her a disbelieving look and kept a fair distance. In her defence, he looked an awfully lot like he did in 'the Fellowship of the Ring' and she had watched the Matrix many a time. The Elven lord turned his eyes to Elizabeth, studying her. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and directed her gaze to a non-threatening floorboard. Apparently, he decided she was a person of interest and commenced to walk towards. _Oh shit. Now I've done it. Why is all I can think about is how much I want to try that tiara on?_

"This is the girl?" He asked.

"Howdy." She said, dryly.

Merry kicked her ankle, whispering, "You're meant to bow!"

She did so. Gandalf chuckled, "Since you are a lady, I think it would be more appropriate to curtsy."

Lord Elrond waved his hand dismissively. "It is not necessary. I welcome you to Imladris, young stranger."

"Thank you." She said.

"May I sit?" He gestured to a chair.

"Of course." They all sat and the dining hall returned to it's normal state of talk and laughter.

"How are you feeling? It has been a hard road for you."

"I'm fine, thank you," _See? I can remember my manners!_ "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Good. Your handmaiden has told me that you are inclined to speak in you sleep." He raised the infamous eyebrow.

_Hahaha! Eyebrows!_ Stifling her amusement, she answered, "What did I say?"

"Something about a boy named, 'Harry Potter'? And who, might I ask, is Orlando Bloom?"

She buried her face in her hands and, although she intended to say something sophisticated and clever, all that escaped her lips was, "Mmmm." She was making a habit of communicating by unintelligible noises.

"Pardon?" Questioned a very entertained Gandalf.

"Orlando Bloom is a very, very sexy man." She dragged her head up and sighed dreamily.

"Who's Harry Potter?" Pippin piped up.

She shook herself, "He's a wizard."

"Is better than Gandalf?"

She snorted, incredulous, "Yes, he survived a killing curse when he was just a baby."

"Moving swiftly onwards." Said Gandalf, obviously a little peeved at them talking about a wizard greater than he, "We have discussed how she might have come here, but not why."

She sniffed, "I thought we'd been through this; I'm deeply asleep or dead."

"Although not everything has a reason, most things do. I believe that you coming to us in a time of great need was no coincidence." He looked pensively at the apple still in his hands.

"Perhaps this is The Valar's doing?" said Elrond, pouring himself some fruit-scented wine from a jug._ Right, this would be a good time to set the plan in motion, she thought, eyeing the wine._ Carefully, she took a small vial out from her sleeve, doing to her best to keep it out of sight. Merry and Pippin were far too busy eating to pay her much heed, but Sam glanced at her curiously. She put a finger to her lips in the universal gesture of 'Be Quiet!'

"...I don't think so. I mean no disrespect Miss. Sparrow, but what use could she possibly be to us?"

"Apart from the fact that I just told you part of your history and I know what's going to happen? 'Cause where I come from that's a pretty big, damn deal." She said, slightly offended by Gandalf's words.

"And you have spoken Aragorn, in great detail, about why you cannot tell us anything that's fated to come about." Gandalf said, patiently. _Aragorn: Traitor of Womankind_. She sank lower in her seat, annoyed at her exclusion from the debate. _It's my life. It isn't fair. Holy shit, I sound just like I did when I was a teenager. Must stop feeling sorry for myself._ She started at the contact of a hand on her own. She glanced up quickly to see who it belonged to.

"They don't pay much attention to what I've got to say either." Muttered Sam.

She grinned, squeezing his hand for a moment before pulling away and whispered, "Watch and learn."

Elrond and Gandalf were still deep in discussion, so they hardly noticed Elizabeth wrestling with the stopper of the small, glass bottle. Merry and Pippin looked over at her, puzzled. "What's she doing?" Said Merry, under his breath.

"I don't know and I'm not sure I want to find out." Responded Sam. The stopped eventually came out with a barely audible popping noise. Naturally, Lord Elrond heard it.

"What was that?" He asked, breaking out of conversation.

"What was what?" Replied Elizabeth, innocently. She brought her hands further under the table to hide the bottle.

"That sound."

"What sound?"

He threw her a glare. "That popping sound."

"I didn't here anything. Did you guys?" She scrutinized the Hobbit's, who were torn between loyalty to their friend and the instinct to tell the truth. "Well?" She said, wordlessly willing them to agree with her.

"Nope." Merry murmured. The rest followed suit and nodded.

"Thank you." She mouthed to them, after Elrond's peripheral didn't include her. With the vial now open, she slowly brought it up to the table. She hoped that if Gandalf did see what she was doing, he would keep quiet. What she is about to do, dear Reader, is something you shouldn't try at home. Or anywhere for that matter. It may result in Elven Lords chasing you around the room with a broomstick/glass jug/implement of their choice. "OH MY GOD!" She shouted, staring wide-eyed over Elrond's shoulder. Instinctively, he, and almost everyone else in the room, turned to look at whatever she was gaping at.

That was the biggest mistake he could have made. She leaned forward and tipped the contents of the bottle into his wine. She was back in her seat just in time before he whirled back around to face her. "What is it? What have you seen?" He said, alarmed.

"Oh." She coughed, acting embarrassed, which wasn't very difficult. "I thought I saw some, uh, migrating coconuts." _Damn you, Monty Python!_

"Migrating... coconuts?" He said. "Maybe you should go back to the healers, Lady."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. It was a trick of the light."

He stared at her for a moment and either thought she was up to nothing, or she was up to something that didn't concern him. She hoped it was the former. "What's a coconut?" enquired Pippin. _Ah, Pip: The saviour of pregnant pauses. Hey, that sounded spiffy. I should say more of these things out loud._

"A coconut is the seed of the palm tree. It doesn't taste very nice." They all pondered that for a moment before Gandalf and Elrond carried on talking and Elizabeth watched to see if he would drink his wine. It was exactly like a film. Her awareness went into slow-motion as he reached for his glass and took a delicate sip of the dark liquid and nothing happened.

_What the hell did I expect? When you spike an Elven Lord's drink with really strong alcohol that, according to his son, will make him more than a little tipsy, you don't expect the results straight away._ Honestly, she was surprised that it didn't taste different. He talked as he did before, didn't slur his words or anything of the sort. It won't work immediately. She concluded, Elladan said it work reasonably fast.

"...Elizabeth?"

"Yes?" She reluctantly pushed her musings away.

"I was saying there is a day until the council. The council will decide the fate of what will become of the Ring-"

"Not trying to interrupt or anything," She interrupted, "But I already know that."

"By all means, I was about to say that, unfortunately, you will not attend the council."

"Oh," she tried to mask her disappointment. "May I ask why?"

"Gandalf and I feel, after much deliberation, that it would be best for you to be left out of it. If you can't tell us the predetermined course, then you are of little use there."

"Gandalf! You agreed?"

"Yes, it wouldn't be wise to let others in on who you are and what you know. Having you there would cause rumours."

"I can see the logic, I suppose." She muttered and slumped in her chair.

"In the meantime, we will try to figure out how to get you back to your own world." Elrond was really gulping that wine. Elizabeth suddenly noticed something. Something she couldn't believe had escaped her attention. At the other end of the table sat a tea pot. In the pot, she really hoped, was some tea.

"Holy monkey on a stick! Is that tea I spy?" She was overcome by the urge to run and grab the pot from the two Elves who were glancing at her nervously.

"Yes. Do they not have tea where you come from?" said a very confused Pippin. He was dumbfounded at the idea of an existence without tea.

"I love tea!" She glowered, exceedingly cross at her deprivation of the caffeine-rich beverage.

"I wonder how many similarities these dimensions have." Contemplated Gandalf. "I think it's time you told us of your home, Miss. Sparrow." She, indubitably, wasn't listening. Judging by her facial expressions, Sam, Merry and Pippin decided she was trying to make the pot explode using mind control.

Elrond laughed, heartily, startling her out of the mental battle with the brew. "Yes, do tell us!" Another laugh. _Uh, did I miss the invitation to the Crazy Party? Could... could this be the liquor taking affect?_ "I have the sudden urge to paint something." He murmured to himself.

"What did you do to him?" Exclaimed Sam, unnerved at the prospect of an insane Lord sitting near him.

"Nothing. I do what I'm told to do." Smiled Elizabeth.

"Yes, what did you do to me? I feel... tingly." Elrond commented.

"Wow, um, you need to learn to hold your liquor." Gandalf simply seemed to be tickled pink by the entire situation. "Anyway, back to the current crisis; I need to get my hands on that tea." You could almost hear her brain whirring and clicking with the effort to formulate a scheme.

"Are you aware that you could go and ask those Elves for they're tea?" said Gandalf. His suggestion was promptly ignored by the girl.

"So, they do have tea, where you're from?" Pippin said.

"Oh, the British are famous for their tea. Our English skies may be grey, we may call you a wanker or a tosser, we may have an oddly dry sense of humour but, holy fuck, we make amazing cups of tea." No one knew quite what to say to that.

"I will get you some tea, if you tell me of your home." Bargained Gandalf,

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Um, that'll take a while."

"Tell me as much as you can."

So, she commenced to explain the age of man and the machine. Of the thick, black industrial smoke that used to spout from chimneys in the cities, of the eras that she could remember, of technology that Middle Earth could only dream of, and of the many, many kinds of tea.

* * *

><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	8. Of Fluff and Misunderstandings

**Chapter Eight: Of Fluff and Misunderstandings**

**_"Don't let them tell you that there's too much noise,  
>They're too old to really understand,<em>**  
><em><strong>You'll still get rowdy with the girls and boys,<strong>_  
><em><strong>'Cause it's time for you to make a stand,<br>Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud."  
>- KISS, Shout It Out Loud.<strong>_

Elizabeth spent over an hour explaining the twenty-first century to Gandalf. In that hour, Elrond had finished his glass of wine and slipped deeper into a state of drunkenness and had said many things, including; "Gandalf, I want that flower." and, "Lady, your forehead is a shiny."

He was eventually silenced by Elizabeth, who gave him the fiercest look she could muster and said, "If you don't stop making mean comments about my forehead, I'll sing a Celine Deon song so loud, it'll crack your skull open!"

Elrond, not knowing who Celine Dion was and being rather fond of his skull, shut up. "I'm not sure I understand." Said Gandalf. "Why do you have so many machines? You make them seem so unreliable, wouldn't it be better if you went back to the old ways? To have just enough technology to allow for easy world travel but not enough to complicate lives."

"I suppose, but the Human race, generally, are a lazy lot. We're always looking for things to make our lives easier. It's a huge money making business, people would lose their whole livelihoods. It's too late to go back now."

He nodded, "From what I've gathered, your world has a great deal more corruption, the ruling system doesn't seem to work and-"

"Hey! Middle Earth might be a land where a single frozen moment of deepest sorrow or sweetest joy can hang in a perpetual balance that you could contemplate for a thousand lifetimes, but," She ranted, we have a machine that let's you say anything, anywhere to anyone over the globe, as long as they have the same machine."

She stopped as Gandalf gestured her to simmer down, "Yes, as poetic as that was, our land is great deal purer. We are free from all the poisonous smoke you describe and..."

As they talked, the Hobbits got bored and wandered off. However pleased they were to see Elizabeth, they could not endure hours of talking. Some Elves came to clear up the breakfast mess, doing their best to clean around the wizard and the woman. It was not an easy task with her waving her arms around, trying to make a point about technology. "Excuse me, Sir, Lady, are you ready to leave?" One maid asked, nervously.

"I apologise." Gandalf stated. "We will be on our way." He rose from his chair, picking up his staff.

Elizabeth pulled herself up, saying, "Sure, apologise to her, but when you insult my country, I don't hear an 'I'm sorry'." He ignored her and walked towards the great oak doors. She skipped after him. _Hold on. My caffeine senses are tingling._ "Gandalf!" She said, "What about the tea? I might melt if I don't get me some tea."

He considered this for a moment. "Go down the kitchens and say, 'U-bedin edhellen'. It is translated as 'I don't speak Elvish.' They should fetch someone who speaks Westrom."

"But I don't understand Westrom." She said, puzzled.

"Young lady, you are speaking it now."

"I am?" _This makes no sense. Absolutely no sense. But I think I may be going mad. Tea, if I drink tea, all sanity will be restored. What was left of it, anyway._ "U-bedin edhellen." She muttered.

"If you'll excuse me, I must see that Lord Elrond has his handmaiden attend to him." He smiled at her. "Was it Elladan or Elrohir who put you up to it?"

"Elladan. Why did you let me do it?" She asked, meeting his gaze levelly.

He winked. "I would never admit it to Meriadoc or his fool of a Took cousin, but I enjoy childish fun as much as they do, from time to time."

He left her a little astounded. A cry from Elrond sounded, "Leave me, I find you unattractive" She turned back to see him swatting at a, slowly turning pink, maid. She disregarded it, thinking, _I still cannot believe I'm here. I've witnessed a Nazgul stab a Hobbit, seen fit Elf-guys and got Elrond drunk before three in the afternoon._

"Damn it, Gandalf!" She cursed, realizing she had no clue where the kitchens were. Why he couldn't just tell her where things were, was beyond her. She tugged pensively at her sleeve. _And so, the quest for tea proceeds._ She left Elrond where he was and shoved open the door with her shoulder. The adjoining corridor was brightly lit with candles as well as the sunlight streaming through windows. The sky was a clear blue, so unlike the polluted earth she had grown up in.

_It really is beautiful here._ She exhaled slowly. _Uh oh, I'm turning into a naturist... hang on, that's not the right word. What's the word I want_? She chose a direction at random and drifted away from the cries of indignation from Elrond, "...I wasn't finished with that pear, you know!"

"Dum da dum, da dum..." She hummed the Pink Panther theme tune. _Haha! I am a master of stealth and disguise! None shall keep me from reaching my destination. That reminds me of Alan Wake. What. A. Hero._

"I carry on my quest for the kitchen. It's out there, somewhere in the darkness. I don't know where. I sense it, I need it, I miss it." She quoted. Of course, that wasn't the real quote, Reader, she adapted it to fit her current state of affairs. Elizabeth had fallen in love with her friend's Xbox 360 and daydreamed for weeks about pulling an Alan Wake and saving someone helpless from the clutches of darkness infested Taken. She stumbled on the hem of her dress and she sighed in irritation, kicking at the material. She veered around a corner, suddenly wishing for some string or breadcrumbs to leave behind, in order to find her way back. Where she was, she had no idea. It was a quieter part of the building, chatter could still be heard but it appeared to be away from the residential area. She passed less and less people (although the ones she did go by didn't even engage in eye contact). _What the fuzz is going on? Never mind, onwards!_

"The road stretches ahead. Where the kitchen is, I don't know. Danger comes from all sides." She squinted at a small bird out of the window. "In the form of birds and Elves. I have to fight my way through the darkness. Is the tea there? Will I ever see it, again? These questions plague my mind as I wander the landscape in the afternoon." She trailed off mysteriously. She had got so wrapped up in her created tension and suspense, that she released a yelp of panic when a hand grabbed her arm.

"Araagh!" She tried to yank herself out of the strong grasp.

"Calm yourself! It is only I." Said Aragorn, emerging from the shadows.

"You gave me one hell of a scare." She laughed nervously. How's it going?"

"How is what going?"

"I mean, how are you?" She cracked her knuckles.

"I am well, thank you." He grinned. "Did you miss me, Elizabeth?"

She returned the smile and rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I am staying for the council tomorrow." He said, confused. "Surely you have been told this?"

"No, I mean, what are you doing here, in this exact spot." She asked.

"I am on my way back from the kitchen-"

"Excellent! Would be a gentleman and show me where this elusive kitchen would be?" She broke him off mid-sentence.

"By all means, Lady." He offered her his arm, which she took.

"Please, please call me Elizabeth." She begged. "I hate being called Lady." She said this even though tt was one of the times he had called her a lady. He must have been in a good mood.

"But it is you're title." He said, leading her down one flight of stairs. "It wouldn't be proper to call you otherwise."

"Okey dokey, I'll beat you at your own game. I shall call you... um..." She thought for a moment. "I will call you stubbly-ranger-man. How do you like that?"

"Stubbly?" He asked.

"Yes, those fluffy bit's on your face." She pointed out.

"...Fluffy?" They passed several maids giggling conspiratorially. All elves, she noticed, were gorgeous. There can't be an ugly gene in their body. Elizabeth noted how small their waists were, how soft and shiny their hair and how clear their complexion. She abruptly felt very aware of the blemishes on her skin and the few extra pounds she had meant to lose.

She carried her outer-monologue (Stolen shamelessly from Alan Wake), "What I have become? I not the woman I once was. I need some tea. It's amazing taste, it warming my hands on this never-ending afternoon. I will never stop looking for it. I will keep on this journey until I have searched Middle Earth for my beloved."

Aragorn stopped to look at her, "Why are you saying that?"

She shrugged, "I get bored and I want some tea. It's a bad combination."

They forged ahead once more. "You want to go to the kitchens for some... tea?"

"Absolutely."

He muttered, "Your quirks continue to perplex me." Then louder, "Do you speak any Elvish? Most of the kitchen staff don't speak the common tongue."

"Gandalf told me what to say. Plus, I read up on a little Elvish, back at home." She said. Truthfully, she'd only learnt a few insults in Elvish before her obsession with Lord of the Rings died down. So what she said wasn't untrue, it was just in the neighbourhood of truth. Truthy. He led her to a massive wooden door, the sounds of talking, clanging of dishes and pots and the whistling of kettles emanated from behind. _What is it about Elves and big doors? They must like their dramatic entrances._

"This is where I leave you, Elizabeth."He said, giving her a slight bow.

She smiled,_ I could get used to this behaviour! "_Maybe we could be friends."

"Friends..." He mused. "Wasn't weeks in the wilderness enough to bond us?"

She shook her head. "You hardly ever called me by my name! Anywoozle, I'll see you late, friendo!"

He went back in the direction they had come, shaking his head, and mumbling "Oh, Eru, what have I gotten myself into?" Elizabeth chuckled. She opened the door. Five Elves were working hard, either washing dishes or kneading some sort of dough, presumably to make bread or a cake. They were gossiping sociably together in their native tongue. The kitchen was windowless but a fire burned at the hearth, casting warm tones around the room, reflecting off brass pots and pans.

They all look up from their tasks to watch her enter. _What did Gandalf tell me to say? Oh God, I can't have forgotten already..._ She pretended to admire the architecture for a moment, desperately trying to recall what he had said. They observed her figure and height, noting the bare feet and inelegant movements.

"_Pedich Edhellen_?" **(Do you speak Elvish?)** One tall Elf-maid brought her hands to the surface of soapy water and dried them on a scrap of fabric. _Oh, fuck it. I'll improvise. Need to think back a few years, I'm sure I can recall something to say..._

"Um_... Lasto... An ral Maded...Orodruin?_" **(Listen... Do you want to eat... Mount Doom?)**

Her eyes widened, and panic creased her features. She turned back to her comrades, speaking swiftly. Elizabeth waited patiently. _If I said what I think I said, they might get me something to drink._ The kitchen staff seemed to come to a decision. One broad-backed Elf took her arm and attempted to guide her to the door.

"Whoa! Back off, buddy! We just met!" She jerked her arm from his hold.

He stared at her in disarray. "_Heniach nin?_" **(Do you understand me?) **He questioned her, trying once more to take her arm and lead her away.

"Okay, I'm confused by this entire situation. I would like some tea!" She groaned. "I'm not getting anywhere with you people, am I? Oh, you can't understand me." She pondered for a few minutes, dismissing the tugs at her arm. _Aha! If I say this right, they should go and get something who speaks the lingo..._

"_Ava vanta i salquesse!"_** (Keep off the grass!)** She shouted, making the one's nearby jump at the loudness of her voice.

"_No dh nen, Hiril_!" **(Be silent, Lady!)** He pleaded, hopelessly undertaking the labour of escorting her out.

"_Ni quorya_!" **(I'm drowning!)** She yelled, wrenching herself again out of his hold.

These poor Elves were at the end of their tether by this time and were starting to get angry. _"Daro I!"_ **(Stop that!)** One scolded.

_This is getting out of hand. Maybe I should leave.._. "Right, I'm going to go now, it was a pleasure meeting you!" She said, cheerfully._ What's Elvish for 'Thank you'? Oh, right..._ _"Hu nin mant han!"_ **(My dog ate it****!)** She proceeded to skip out of the kitchen, leaving five, very bewildered, Elves in her wake.

_Pffft, Elves. What a bunch of drama queens._


	9. Of Trousers and Telephones

**Chapter Nine: Of Trousers and Telephones**

_**"When I was walking in Memphis,**_  
><em><strong>I was walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale,<br>Walking in Memphis,**_  
><em><strong>Do I really feel the way I feel?"<br>- Marc Cohn, Walking In Memphis.**_

"Holy heart failure, Batman." Elizabeth muttered. She crouched uncomfortably behind green foliage, listening to the idle talk of the ones already seated at the council. Despite being denied entrance to the supposedly 'secret' meeting, she still sneaked in to hide in the shrubbery with Sam. That wasn't a euphemism, she was, literally, huddled behind a conveniently placed bush. She got her tea in the end, swallowing her pride and asking Gandalf to talk to the kitchen Elves. They were surprisingly understanding about their communication problem. She discovered one thing: Middle Earth had horrible tea. Her quest was in vain.

She spotted Frodo looking troubled amongst a gaggle of Elves. She wished she could leap out of her hiding spot and shout encouraging phrases at him. Not the best idea she'd had, but, then again, not the worse. She hadn't particularly spoken with Aragorn after their exchange the past day, not going so far as to avoid him, simply not seeking him out to chat. There's no need to get attached to him. _He's going to join the fellowship and I'm going to stay here, out of trouble._ She nearly snorted out loud. _Ha! Yeah, right! I'm going on this frickin' quest, even if it kills me. Now that I'm here, there is no bloody way I'm staying with Mr. Smith-look-a-like. His eyebrows scare me._

A movement caught her attention. She saw several more Elves file into the circle, each more beautiful than the last. "Welcome, Elves of Mirkwood." Said Elladan, who was apparently welcoming on his fathers behalf.

"Many thanks." One said and they bowed respectively_. Hel-LO, studly!_ She eyed them appreciatively. The next to arrive were some Hobbit-like creatures. Except they had excessive facial hair, sharp axes and didn't look a thing like Sneezy, Sleepy, Happy, Bashful, Grumpy, Dopey or Doc._ Disney don't know how wrong they are..._

The men came after that. Compared to every other person in the circle, they were pretty normal. Although it would seem they had never heard of a razor. _What did I learn from Harry Potter? That people with hair on their faces are trustworthy. I trust these guys. And the Dwarves. And Hobbits. They have facial hair, it's just not on their faces, which kind of destroys the whole concept. Never mind. Pretend I never thought that._

She shifted her weight. They hadn't picked the best place to eavesdrop on a secret council. After a few minutes of making small talk and Elves and Dwarfs glaring at one another, Elrond entered, no sign of yesterdays intoxication evident on his face. He took his place at the head of the council and began to talk. "Strangers of distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate. This one doom."

_He's a cheerful sort of bloke, isn't he?_ Elizabeth thought, studying the Elves closest to her hiding place, trying to decipher which one was Legolas. Her best guess was the one with fair hair and a long white knife at his belt. She was forced to tear her attention away momentarily as her irritably long sleeve had snagged on a thorny branch. She tugged at it, struggling to free herself. All she did was drive the material deeper into the thicket.

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." She raised her eyes in time to see Frodo place the Ring on a stone plinth. Gasps and whispers went around the council like wild fire. Her eye caught on the Ring. For the first time, she _really _looked at it. At first glance, it was an unassuming gold ring but it had a magnetic quality. It was like someone had blocked her ears and she could hear nothing. Nothing but a whispering. A small, steady hissing. She tore her eyes from the Ring. That damn thing is evil. She shuddered, not wanting and unwilling to hear what it had to offer her.

"So it is true." _Ah, so that's Boromir._ The man to whom she was referring was attractive in face, grey-eyed, as were many of those in Middle Earth, and dark brown hair fell to his shoulders. His shoulders were broad from years of combat and even sitting, she could tell he was very tall. _Hold on. He. Is. Attractive. Why did I never notice this before? Oh, and there's his invisible phone. Say hi to Denethor for me!_

"Sauron's Ring. The Ring of power." She was correct in her assumption of who was Legolas. She pulled on her sleeve again, getting increasingly annoyed. _I am at the Council of Elrond and my dress is caught in a fucking bush._ The leaves rustled dangerously loud and several people twisted round to see the source of the noise.

"The doom of Man..."_ Hey, Gimli! Where's Snow White?_

Boromir got up and slowly paced, as if evaluating it. "It is a gift... a gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!" He was pretty animated by this time.

_Poor guy._ Elizabeth forgot her sleeve and watched Boromir._ He wants to protect his people._ "You cannot wield it." Said Aragorn. "None of us can." The one Ring answers to Sauron alone; it has no other master. _I really wished I'd read the Silmarillion._ She craned her neck, looking for a better gap in the leaves.

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir said, coolly.

_Kick his arse, Aragorn! He insulted your honour!_

Instead, Legolas rose. "This is know mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." _You tell him, Leggy!_ She released a tiny sigh; she had ages to wait before herself and Sam joined in. Much to her dismay, Legolas whipped his head round at the whispering of the branches. She stayed very still. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice.

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir said in quiet disbelief.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor" _Hmmm... I'm not liking Legolas so far. A little smug for my taste._

"_Havo dad, Legolas_." **(Sit down, Legolas)**

Boromir diverted his eyes and said bitterly, "Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." _More like, 'Gondor has no trousers'_ She thought, scrutinizing his current leg-wear. She defied the impulse to stand up demand he put some proper trousers on.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it." Gandalf agreed.

Elrond said, "You have only one choice: the Ring must be destroyed." Frodo wasn't looking too good. He was staring at the gold band on the plinth, eyes wide.

Gimli stood. "Then what are we waiting for?"

He suddenly rushed forward. He swung his axe down onto the Ring. She ducked as the weapon shattered with a deafening crack and flew in all directions. The Dwarf fell backwards, face twisted into amazement. The Ring was unharmed. Frodo winced, clutching his forehead. She half expected him to announce that his scar hurt and that the Dark Lord was near.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom; only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."

_Aren't you a ray of fucking sunshine._ The council sat for a moment in stunned silence. People moved around. Someone coughed. Elizabeth tried to free herself from the shrubbery. It's pretty darn clear that it wasn't like an unproblematic trip to the supermarket.

Boromir is the first to talk. "One does not simply walk into Mordor _(There's his imaginary phone, again! Say happy birthday to Faramir!)_ It's black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume! _(Sounds a bit like my room.)_ Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." He finished with a triumphant look, like he'd won a huge victory. Maybe he had.

_Perhaps not with ten thousand men, but with two men, an Elf, a Dwarf, a wizard, four Hobbit's and, hopefully, one woman. If the whole fellowship was made up of women, they wouldn't be in this mess._

Legolas got to his feet. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli shouted, his face going a deeper shade of red.

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Gimli leapt up, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"

All hell broke loose. There was shouting and holding back as most of the council were either spewing insults or pulling back those eager to fight. Gimli was heard, "Never trust an Elf!" ...And that was when Elizabeth resolved, in her mind, that she was fed up of this.

_Hell, I was brought to Middle Earth. It wasn't on a wish or a prayer and, if I'm being honest, it wasn't because I'm dead or dreaming. This is here and now. What kind of divine power or deity brings you to a place of, supposed, fiction and expects you not to make a difference? I'm changing this. Future be damned._

She knew it was probably a big mistake. It didn't stop her from shouting, "THE COUNCIL OF ELROND DEMANDS AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS BULLSHIT!"


	10. Of Madness and Oxymorons

**Chapter Ten: Of Madness and Oxymorons**

_**"We say, Sisters are doing it for themselves,**_  
><em><strong>Standing on their own two feet,<strong>_  
><em><strong>And ringing on their own bells.<strong>_  
><em><strong>We say, Sisters are doing it for themselves."<br>- Annie Lennox, Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves.**_

Every living organism on the premises did not dare to breathe. Elrond had never looked more infuriated. What made it worse for her, was the fact that her dress was still caught on the bush and she couldn't move. Elrond's eyebrows were out of control. She coughed. "I'm, um, sorry?" She stepped forward, forgot that her dress was still caught and was promptly yanked back to the bush. _In the many awkward silences I have experienced in my time of Middle Earth, this beats them all._ With a surge of sudden confidence, she said "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Miss. Elizabeth Sparrow but you can call me George-"

"What, pray tell, are you doing?" Elrond hissed, furiously.

"You know, just hanging out." She shrugged. "You?"

This time, it wasn't Elrond who spoke, but Aragorn, "We both strictly forbade you from coming to this meeting. Why did you disobey?" He didn't seem especially annoyed, so she pushed her luck.

"Because I'm not some stray dog you can order around. In fact, if you tell me to do something, I'll probably do the opposite." Aragorn sighed and walked over to help her up. He took out a small knife and cut the offending fabric, freeing her arm.

A man said. "That much is obvious. We have much to discuss, we have no time for your jokes. Be on your way." She whirled around and gave him a look that could curdle milk.

"I will not 'be on my way', as you charmingly put it. I would rather eat glass."

One Elf smiled slightly, "You're the girl who insulted the kitchen staff."

"I didn't insult them! It's not my fault I didn't know what I was saying!" She said, hotly.

"Oh, we have not time for this now! You may as well sit down." Grumbled Gandalf. "I don't think you are grasping the seriousness of the situation, Elizabeth." He addressed the whole council, "Do you not understand? While we bicker among ourselves, Sauron's power grows. No one will escape it. You will all be destroyed, your homes burnt and your families put to the sword!"

"I nominate Frodo!" Called Elizabeth from her place next to said Hobbit. A few looked at her, disbelievingly. Others ran their eyes over the Halfling.

Frodo stood shakily, "I will take it." _Wow, that was easier than I thought... I should take up a career in motivational speaking._ He swallowed. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." The silence was deafening. An oxymoron that didn't make much sense to Elizabeth. "Though, I do not know the way."

Tiny butterflies flapped their wings in her stomach. _I'm witnessing the birth of a legend! Keep calm, keep calm._ "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." Said Gandalf, moving over to stand beside him.

"If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword." _Aw! Don't cry, don't cry!_

"And you have my bow."

Gimli glared, like he wasn't to be outdone by an Elf. "And my axe." Legolas' expression turned sour.

Boromir came to a conclusion. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is, indeed, the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Just so you know, I'll be going with them too." Several people laughed, thinking it silly that a mortal woman with no training could go on a quest as important as this.

"Why would the council of Elrond want you on this crucial quest?" It was the man who had expressed his disdain for her being there in the first place. _Who does this guy think he is? It's time to bring out the Harry Potter quotes._

"Who might I be talking too?" She snapped, giving him a once over. "Red hair, hand-me-down clothes and a stupid complexion." She gasped. "You must be a Weasley!"

The so-called Weasley was baffled. "What?"

"Silly muggle." She chuckled darkly.

"Say what you like, the council will not allow you to go." He said, stubbornly.

"That won't stop me-"

"Yes, it will-"

"Do you go out of your way to annoy people?" She said, growing angrier by the second. "Maybe you have a self-confidence problem or something, but I think you're just a knob who can't keep his mouth shut."

"You dare speak to me in such a manner?"

"Please stop talking, or I'll be forced to punch you where it hurts."

The man chuckled like she was a silly child. "You wouldn't be able to land a blow. It is a well known fact that a woman will never hit as hard as a man."

"No, but we hit lower." She growled.

"Enough!" Shouted Elrond, who could no longer endure the bickering. "Elizabeth, while I appreciate you volunteering, I fear it will be too dangerous for you. And you, Sir." He said, glancing pointedly at the red head. "Are you not a man of Gondor? You should have more honour. You will not insult a lady in the Last Homely House." The man mumbled an apology and looked away.

_Victory! Hold on... Did he say I couldn't go?_ "Here!" Sam shouted, popping up from his hiding place. Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me.

Elrond rubbed his forehead, muttering, Oh, Ilúvatar..." under his breath. "No, indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." Elrond didn't know how all this madness had come about and why it had happened to him.

"What do you mean, 'You can't go'?" Said Elizabeth.

"Oi! We're coming too!" Elrond spun around to see two more Hobbit's running out from behind some pillars. "You'll have to send us home tied up a sack to stop us!"

Merry and Pippin joined the rest of the fellowship. "Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission...quest... thing."

"Well, that rules out you, Pip. Said Merry, grinning."

Elizabeth jumped up and stood next to Aragorn. "I. Am. Going." Elrond, far too busy deciding her fate, ignored the presence of Merry and Pippin. "You will not stop me." _I need something to change his mind._ The majority of the council were dumbstruck. Never had they beheld such lunacy. Who was this crazy girl? And, more importantly, why was her mouth curving upward into an evil smirk?

"Hey, Elrond?" She asked, sweetly.

"Yes?" He said, though gritted teeth.

"What's the first thing elves learn in school? The Elf-abet!" She laughed. "I know, I think up the most amazing jokes! Want to hear another? Why does Legolas feel depressed? 'Cause he has low Elf esteem!"

"I don't feel-" Legolas started to protest that he didn't feel especially saddened, and that her attempt at humour wasn't all that funny, but Miss. Sparrow was off on the crazy train.

"Oh! I've got another. What do Orcs around Rivendell fear the most? Elf-inflicted wounds!"

"There aren't-" Elrohir started to object that there aren't any Orcs around Imladris, but was cut off once again.

"What's big, has long hair and wears tights? An Elf-ephant!" She laughed. Elrond glared at her, wishing that she would hush and give up on the preposterous notion that she was joining- "What do Elves use to go from floor to floor? An Elf-evator!" Elizabeth was very pleased with herself. Several people tried to talk over her jesting to no avail.

"I think it's time for a sing-song, don't you... Aragorn?" She pounced on the Dunedain, giving him a very deliberate pinch.

Poor, poor Aragorn wanted nothing to do with this. The men of Gondor glared at him, as if it was his fault that she had started this. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to procrastinate. "I don't think it would be the best idea..." He trailed off, unwilling to be in the middle.

"O one of many unpronounceable names." Said Elizabeth, poking him in the arm. "Don't you want me on this quest? Never mind, I'll sing by myself-"

"Why are you so resolute on coming with us?" Boromir asked, generally inquisitive.

She inclined her head. "The question is, why wouldn't I want to come? I'd be with my newly acquired friend, Aragorn. I'd get the chance to annoy Legolas with more Elf jokes." Legolas turned an interesting shade of green. "And, more importantly, it would be an adventure." Boromir mulled this over, while Elizabeth caught Gandalf's eye. "You want me on this quest, right?"

He leaned on his staff, not saying a word. "I don't see why she can't go." Said Gimli. "If she gets herself killed, then it's her own fault."

Elizabeth was oddly touched. "Thanks Gimli."

Elrond sighed. "If I permit you to join this fellowship, do I have your word that your actions will remain your own and the council will not be held responsible?"

"Absolutely!" _This is like talking to an insurance salesman._

The realization of it hit her. "I'm going on a quest to destroy Sauron's Ring! Aw, you guys are going to be my travel buddies!" She grinned manically. "Group hug?"

As usual, Elrond ignored her commentary that appeared to be never-ending and said, "Ten companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

The moment was spoiled by Pippin saying, "Great. Where are we going?"

"Oh, by the Valar, this is going to be a long journey." Said Gandalf, knocking his head against his staff.


	11. Of Friendship and Mind Games

**Chapter Eleven: Of Friendship and Mind Games**

_**"I come home in the morning light,**_  
><em><strong>My mother says "When you gonna live your life right?"<strong>_  
><em><strong>Oh, mother dear,<strong>_  
><em><strong>We're not the fortunate ones,<strong>_  
><em><strong>And girls, they want to have fun.<strong>_  
><em><strong>Oh, girls, just want to have fun."<br>- Cyndi Lauper, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.**_

On the morning she was to leave for the quest, she was woken at dawn with, "_Echuiv, Heril._" **(Wake up, Lady.)**

"Muuuff." She replied, burying her head into the pillow, ignoring the handmaiden who stood beside her bed.

The month or so leading up to that day were not pretty. Elladan and Elrohir attempted to teach her how to handle twin blades. Without success. Aragorn tried to show her the ways of the sword. Without success. She persuaded Legolas to teach her archery. Without success. Even Gimli tried to teach her how to throw an axe. Yes, you guessed it, without success. The only thing she showed much talent in was gardening. She stretched languidly under the covers, wanting to keep the feeling of a warmth for as long as possible. "I'm up." She mumbled sleepily.

The maid sighed and left. Maybe it was something she said. If Elizabeth was honest, today made her nervous. It was a good sort of nervous, though. The kind of nervous you get before you jump in the swimming pool and you know it's going to be cold. She stretched one last time before throwing her legs out of the bed and a shiver rippled down her spine. _Well, if it kills me, at least I'll know that I've had a crack at being a hero._ Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she dressed quickly in the outfit she had agreed to wear.

_Pfffft. They actually expected me to wear a skirt? Honestly, you'd think they'd learn._ Much to the dismay of one Ranger, who thought she should be acting more like a lady, she was wearing soft, black leggings and supple leather boots. The shirt was white with embroidered sleeves, which Elizabeth knew were going to get ripped/muddy/stuck on something. She felt a bit like a pirate.

"Arr! They call me Grace O'Malley, fiercest lady pirate ever to sail the seven seas." She picked up her discarded Frick and wielded it as if it were a cutlass, decapitating imaginary foes and playfully maiming her crew. _Twenty five years old and still playing pirate. Some things don't change._ Abandoning her games of piracy, she left the not-so-deadly weapon on the bed, along with everything else she didn't plan on taking. She was reluctant to leave much behind, so only an empty tic tac box lay alongside the Frick. A rucksack was at the foot of the bed, surprisingly light.

_Well, you know what they say: A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it._

* * *

><p>"The Ring bearer is setting out on a quest for Mount Doom. You who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid out for you to go further than you will." The fellowship stood at the gate, looking very much awake and bright-eyed, much to our heroines dismay.<p>

_It's. Too. Early._ She thought._ I'd feel so much better about mornings if they started later._ She mentally shook herself when her eyes drifted closed. She didn't feel awake enough even to make sarcastic comments about Aragorn's sword and whether or not he was compensating for something. She managed to stay alert enough to catch the end of Elrond's speech. "May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you."

_By free folk, does he mean swingers? I hope not. I don't want a swinger's blessing- Oh. That's what Elrond looks like when he smiles. It's disturbing_. Gandalf announced "The Fellowship awaits the Ring bearer."

"Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?" Whispered Frodo, stopping abruptly, and Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, wasn't looking where she was going. She crashed into Gimli sending both of them toppling over, knocking the wind out of her. They landed unceremoniously with Gimli's armour clanking on the floor.

"Oh, Morning Gimli, I didn't see you there." She said, managing to sound both tired and chirpy.

"Mffft!"

"What's that?"

"Mpplt!"

"What?"

"Mfft." He repeated, before spitting something out. "I said, your hair is in my face."

She pushed herself up, then offered him a hand. "I think," She said, helping him to his feet. "This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship."

The Dwarf pondered this briefly, then answered, "If you can fall like that and get back up with your head held high, you're a friend of mine." It might have been what he said, but that she greatly annoyed Legolas might have been a contributing factor.

"See, Aragorn? I can make friends if I want to!" She stuck out her tongue at the aforementioned Ranger.

"Mordor is to the left, Frodo." Gandalf was already starting to sound weary. After assembling themselves back into the original order, they each gave the Elf-lord a gesture of respect (Except Elizabeth, who said, It's been wonderful. I'll laugh about out times together. Tatty-bye. and tipped her imaginary hat. It was safe to say that Elrond would be happy enough to see her go) and began to long, long walk to Mordor.

* * *

><p>So, Reader, what do you think Elizabeth would do on this long, perilous, risky and exceedingly dull journey? Yes! 10 Reader points to you! She pestered everyone. And by everyone, I mean everyone who wasn't under the protection of being her friend. Aragorn, Gimli and the Hobbit's were safe from her witticisms and antics. Legolas, Boromir, Gandalf, however, were not. How they deeply regretted it.<p>

By the time they had conquered the long, steep path out of the cloven vale of Rivendell she had already made reference to Gandalf's pointy hat trick, many frightening innuendos about the Horn of Gondor and sung 'I've Got A Jar Of Dirt' to Legolas countless times. She had been gifted with a wooden staff of the non-magical variety (to her disappointment) so she wouldn't be unarmed but Gandalf had confiscated it when she tried to get a round of limbo going.

On the first night, they set up camp by a small stream. She and Boromir had been given the simple task of collecting water rather than hunting for food. Obviously, he had protested immensely until she snapped, "Oh, for the love of crumb cakes, we get it! We all know that you're capable of wrestling a bear or whatever absurd point you're trying to make. Now, stop moping around and hand me that canteen!"

Out of surprise more than compliance, he passed her the water container. "What?" She asked suspiciously, seeing almost every pair of eyes on her. The tense quiet was broken by Gimli roaring with laughter and Merry requesting to know what crumb cakes were. Boromir simultaneously wore an expression of shock and amusement. "What?" She repeated, cracking a smile.

"Nothing." Said Boromir, blinking. She rolled her eyes, stood and then moved to complete the original task by kneeling in front of the stream, allowing the clear liquid to run through her fingers before dunking the canteen in. Aragorn gave him a stern look and tipped his head in the general direction of the brook. Boromir sighed. Maybe he should help her. He crouched beside her. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Hmmm?" She looked up briefly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I can't hear you over that sound."

He frowned. "What sound?"

She shushed him, holding a finger to her chapped lips. "I want to hear it!" They waited. Her with head cocked like a dog. Him feeling flummoxed. All he could hear was rushing water and the wind.

"Lady Elizabeth, what are am I meant to be hearing?"

"That, my dear Boromir, is the sound of how amazing I am." She said. "I first heard that glorious music when I obliterated you with my quick wit." He stiffened, then realized it was a joke and relaxed. _Jeez, this guy needs to lighten up. Quick! Make conversation so he doesn't feel bad._

"So... You're from Gondor?"

"Yes."

The silence was back. "So..." She said again, filling up the next container with water. She racked her brain, thinking of an appropriate question. "If someone gave you a thousand pounds and asked you to kill a butterfly by burning it alive, would you do it?"

"What?" He said, startled.

"Would you do it?"

"What are 'pounds'?"

_Oooh, right._ "You know," She waved her free hand around. "Currency."

"Oh. One thousand gold pieces?" He picked up the last remaining flask.

"Sure."

He scratched his head contemplatively. "I don't think so. I am not in need of money and something innocent shouldn't die because of my actions."

She stared at him. "Boromir. You are now my friend. Congratulations." She smiled.

"Oh, er, thank you?"

After that blatantly odd conversation, they walked back to the make-shift camp only to find Sam looking annoyed and Pippin rolling on the floor laughing. Even Legolas was smirking somewhat. The pot was on the fire and Sam was doing his best to cook some sort of stew. If it wasn't for Pippin and Merry bothering him, he probably would of realized it was burning.

"What's going on?" asked Elizabeth, setting the full containers by the fire.

Aragorn snickered. "They are enquiring about Sam's status with Rosie Cotton." Sam flushed.

"Come on, guys!" She said. "That isn't nice."

Gandalf puffed on his pipe, looking all wise and wizardly. And uninterested. "They're having a little harmless fun."

"But aren't blokes sensitive about that sort of thing? Sam, that stew is burning." He swiftly took it off the fire while she sat on a nearby log. The rest of the group suddenly became interested with mundane things like rocks or shoes. "Well?"

Aragorn was the first to speak, "Says the women who, when asked about her martial state by an eligible man in Rivendell, climbed a tree to be rid of him."

"Hey! Who wants to play a game?" She said, suddenly, deliberately changing the subject entirely.

"Us!" Shouted Merry and Pippin in unison.

"Aragorn?"

"What kind of game is it?" _The kind that allows you to be distracted. I'm winning. A fun one._

"I'll play, but it has to be quiet and none too boisterous."

She rolled her eyes. "Gimli?"

As long as it doesn't involve walking." He sent a venomous glare at Gandalf_. I feel for you, I really do._ Her own muscles were still complaining, even after an hours rest.

"Legolas?" The Elf took on a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"Do you give your word to stop calling me Leggy-bear?"

"That's not what you said last night.!

The implication made him redden !I wasn't-!

!We know, Legolas.! Said Aragorn, voice straining from resisting the urge to laugh.

!Aw, you're so sexy when you pretend we're not together." She winked. He blanched.

"Right, he's playing. What about you?" She questioned Boromir, nudging him with her elbow.

"N-"

"Excellent!" She said. "What are we playing?"

"What?" Said Aragorn, confused.

"What are we playing?"

"You're the one who wanted to play something in the first place!"

"Was I?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, I said that so you wouldn't talk to me about climbing a tree to get away from some guy."

"So we are not playing a game?"

"I don't know, are you?"

"I have a headache." He said, massaging his temples. Something he seemed to be doing a lot of recently.

"So, what you're saying," Boromir intervened. "Is that there was no point in this whole conversation?"

"That is indeed what I am saying, yes."

_At least I got them distracted..._ "Why did you climb a tree?"_ ...Damn._

She reclined on the ground by the fire, taking the bowl of stew Sam offered her and blowing over it. "As Stridy over there said, I didn't want to talk about it."

"Ah, so you are already married."

"What is it about Middle Earth people and marriage? No, I'm not and I'm planning to be, either." She gave Aragorn a very dirty look.

"Oh."

_Elizabeth 1 Boromir 0._ She gave him a smug look.

"In other news, we must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor." Said Gandalf, while thinking_ Gandalf 1 Elizabeth 0_ and giving the woman his own self-satisfied look.

* * *

><p>The night grew darker still and there was singing, in elvish and other languages she couldn't name. She met the eyes of Boromir a few times over the fire but she quickly found unexplainable interest in something else.<p>

Eventually, with Legolas taking watch and the stars coming out to play, she drifted to sleep, lost in a realm of fantasy she never thought possible.

_She dreamed. There was a woman. And an ocean. Those were the only things she could recall when she tried. The woman was clothed in a white robe, hair and eyes dark in comparison. The eyes were the things she remembered the most. They were old, much older than the rest of her face and all over her was pain. Pain, pain, pain with no shadow to hide it. Yet she was so unearthly beautiful. She made no utterance and for a while they only watched each other. They got to know each other through silence. Elizabeth couldn't move, she felt compelled to stay where she was and not look around at the iridescent shimmer of the sea. The air smelled of salt. And blood. The woman smiled and Elizabeth finally saw a glimmer of hope in those mirrored pools of thought. She wasn't human, Elizabeth realised, she was far too lovely for that and much too burdened._

_The woman's lips parted slightly and breathed a sigh. "Lo-"_

Elizabeth awoke with a jolt, sitting ramrod straight and making a sound like a broken animal. Legolas turned, startled, "Elizabeth? Are you well?"

She took a deep breath of chilly air. "Yeah." She whispered and lay back down, staring at the stars like they held the answer. "Just fine."


	12. Of Banana's and Scarves

**Chapter Twelve: Of Bananas and Scarves**

_**"And I use mouthwash, Sometimes I floss,**_  
><em><strong>I've got a family, And I drink cups of tea,<strong>_  
><em><strong>I've got nostalgic pavements,<strong>_  
><em><strong>I've got familiar faces,<strong>_  
><em><strong>I've got a mixed-up memory,<strong>_  
><em><strong>And I've got favourite places."<br>- Kate Nash, Mouthwash.**_

It was indescribable. Well, not quite. Here are a few words to distinguish the next few weeks of walking; Horrible. Painful. So. Much. Walking. Boring. Glue. The last was one of Elizabeth's choosing. I didn't want to ask. They get to the Eregion Hills in good time. One could only describe that as rocky. When someone proposed to stop, no one argued. All she could do was try not to collapse on the ground and pant. Instead she sat on a rock, stretching out her legs and hear the joints click in response to the work they hadn't been accustomed to doing.

"Are we nearly there yet?" She sing-songed from her rock.

"Not even close." Called Aragorn, who was laying back on the only grassy bank in sight, smoking his pipe. He was in a good mood, for once, and not being all I m-second-in-command-so-I-must-put-on-a-good-face kind of pleasant, just a hey-guys-I'm-going-to-smoke-my-pipe-and-laugh- jovially kind of pleasant. It made a relaxing change.

"Get away from the blade, Pippin. On your toes, very good. I want you to react, not think." Boromir was giving Merry and Pippin sword tuition and, as far as she could tell, they were doing well. They were better than her, anyhow.

It had come to the point in the quest where things started to get serious. She knew perfectly well what was going to happen and was going to try her hardest to stop the negatives from occurring. She was only mildly jiggered that none of her travelling associates had wondered why she was always a few seconds ahead of time. Although, nothing very exiting has come about yet. _I'm just hoping I get to shout, Crebain from Dunland! at the same time as Legolas. That should sufficiently freak them out._

"Can I ask something?" She sloped off the rock (She feeling a bit mermaid-y in the way she was sitting and really didn't want to start swooning all over the place. Or grow a tail. That would be just as bad.) and went to sit opposite Gandalf.

"Ask away." The Istari in question said, blowing smoke rings.

"You know," She sniggered, preoccupied by the fancy smoke rings. "You are what you eat. Before you know it, you'll guiding us as a wisp of smoke. I would never get to high five you again."

"When have you ever 'high fived' me, as you put it?"

"Um, never." She immediately leaned over and tapped her palm with his. Regrettably, he had been caught unaware and was so startled he dropped his pipe.

"Elizabeth!" Gaped Frodo. "Did you hit Gandalf?"

"Oh, God! No! I was trying to high five him!" She explained rapidly. The wizard in the background retrieved his pipe and muttered about how he was getting too old for this.

"What is a 'high five'?" Boromir asked, pausing his tutorial.

"I'll show you." Getting up once again, she demonstrated the subtle art of the 'high five'. It was safe to say that no one was very impressed.

"So, all you're doing is slapping hands?" asked Merry.

"Yeah, basically." Her brow crumpled. "It's a way of expressing accomplishment or happiness."

"We will make an effort to do it more often," stated Gandalf, dryly. "What was your question?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Why are we called the Fellowship of the Ring? Couldn't someone think of a better name?"

"What would you suggest?"

"How about...uh... The Fellowship of the Bling?"

"Eh?"

"It makes more sense. The Ring, although a little tacky in my opinion, is bling. Plus..." Boromir was back to giving Pip and Merry fighting tips, shaking his head, as if to say, 'Crazy girl.' and saying encouraging things such as 'Move your feet!' and so on and so forth. Gimli was trying to corner Gandalf. Legolas was playing look-out and was doing a very good job until Elizabeth stopped talking with Gandalf and started talking to _him_. "Hey, Legolas?"

"Yes?" His line of vision was on something far away. _It's Crebain from Dunland!_

"Why do you always keep your hair tied back?"

He tore his eyes from the horizon." It is traditional of my race and it is practical."

"That's boring. Watch this!" She shook out her hair from it's tie and the group watched, with the deepest surprise and horror, as she did something no one thought she would do. "I whip my hair back and forth, I whip my hair back and forth!" She tossed her hair from side to side.

"What's she doing, Merry?" Whispered Pippin, distracted from his sparring by Elizabeth's hair whipping technique.

"I don't know, Pip. Do you think we should help her?"

"Why?"

"She might be having a fit."

"Oh. What should we do?"

"Let's ask Strider..." Elizabeth was still doing her best to impersonate Willow Smith, but all she succeeded in doing was confirming all assumptions that she was a few threads short of a jumper and almost falling off the rock with her vigorous whipping.

"I'm telling you, you should just let your hair be freeeeeee!" She laughed.

"I think I'll pass." Legolas murmured, slowly edging away. He didn't want to be hit by a stray lock of hair travelling at around 40 miles per hour.

"You will make yourself ill." Warned Aragorn.

"I'll take my chances, _Dad_!" She giggled. Oi! Boromir! Come and- wow!" She tripped on an unforeseen stone, which she probably should have foreseen, with her being where she was and all. She fell hard, knee scraping painfully against the ground and grazing her knuckles in an effort to catch herself. _Ow..._

"Lady?" Boromir's voice floated by.

"Yeah?"

"Did you fall?"

"Nope. The wind pushed me." She groaned and stood up, wincing as her knee throbbed. _Won't be whipping my hair again in a hurry._ Aragorn watched with puzzlement. How did she manage to fall? He cast it out of his mind.

"If anyone were to ask for my opinion which, I note, they have not, I would say we are taking the long way round. Gandalf, we can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome." Elizabeth sat back on the original rock, letting the familiar conversation drift over her and glaring at the pebble that had rudely tripped her up.

"No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice." _I could just tell him it's the path we take anyway. But, then again, I want to make snowmen._

"What is that?"

She supplied the answer. "Crebain from Dunland."

"Nothing, it's just a wisp of cloud." Said Gimli.

"No." Said Elizabeth, calmly. "That's Crebain from Dunland. We should hide." In an equally calm manner, she got her rucksack and crouched beneath an overhanging rock.

"It is moving fast against the wind." Said Boromir.

"I know. It's Crebain from Dunland!" She was getting rather frustrated.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Shouted Legolas.

"Sure! When I say it, nobody believes me. When the Elf says it, everyone panics!" She huffed indigently as they rush around putting out fires and hiding behind rocks. _Maybe I should practice my loud voice..._ She wondered. Boromir slid in beside her, hunching down to fit himself next to her. "Hey. What you up to?" She inquired. No answer. _Fine, if you want to be rude, consider you off the friendship list, buddy. Even you do smell good... Gah, inappropriate thoughts, inappropriate thoughts._ She could practically feel the birds as they flew past. The sound of beating wings and cawing was enough to make her shudder and imagine tiny claws in her hair. "So, Lizzie, what did you do today?" She grumbled to herself. "Oh, nothing much. I hid from birds with a man who refused to talk to me, but other than that, everything's going swimmingly."

The croaking subsided as they flew over distant land and Gandalf staggered to his feet. "Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched."

"Really? Because-"

"We must take the pass of Caradhras!"

* * *

><p>The camp that night was hastily made. Dinner was cooked, utensils were washed, firewood was collected, what was becoming everyday tasks were done. All members of the fellowship were tired, no doubt about it. The time had come in the journey where the novelty had worn off. When they set off from Rivendell, a sense of pleasant adventure was instilled in each and every heart. Now, the illusion of this being a daring escapade bled away like wet calligraphy, and the paper underneath wasn't pretty. They sat round the small fire in an attempt to retain warmth in the extremities. Her eyelids kept drooping as she stared into the flames. It was soothing. On the other side of the fire, Boromir was talking to Gandalf.<p>

"What do you think it wrong with her?"

"Who?"

"Lady Elizabeth."

"Nothing is wrong with her, Boromir."

"But she is so... quiet."

"Yes, albeit rare, it sometimes happens."

"You know things about her, do you not?"

The Grey Pilgrim nodded. "I will not deny she has told me of her life. It is nothing she would not tell you, if you asked courteously."

In mind's eye (Look out for the tumble weeds. Her consciousness is a dangerous place.), she pictured Legolas in a pirate costume. What were you expecting? Deep, meaningful reflections about her inner-self? Seriously? Oh, now she's imagining Boromir singing 'Banana Phone.' That was your fault, Reader. _Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring BANANA PHONE! Hahaha! After all, one does not simply Banana Phone into Gondor._ She visualized a very camp Boromir swaggering up to the White City, talking on his banana phone.

What she didn't realize, was that she had been making the appropriate facial expressions to go with her daydreams. Boromir, who had been watching, saw only this: Elizabeth with her normal expression. Elizabeth making a daydream face. Elizabeth trying to contain her laughter. Elizabeth with eyebrow quirked. Elizabeth smiling. Elizabeth with a normal expression.

It was all very disorienting for the Gondorian.

* * *

><p><em>Stupid snow, stupid snow, stupid snow.<em> She thought, knee-deep in the stuff._ I thought you wanted to make a snowman? Her inner voice sniggered at her. Shut up or I'll punch you. You're going to punch yourself in the face? That's normal, that is._

Elizabeth never pictured Caradhras quite so... snowy. It was far too powdery to make a snowman and too crumbly to make a decent snowball. They were at the foot of the great mountain, the sky a clear blue. Under normal circumstances, she would be overjoyed at the prospect of skipping mirthfully through the snow, lobbing snow at others. However, as much as she used to dream about being in Middle Earth, the scene wasn't quite how she expected it. For example, in her assorted imaginings, she had never been freezing. It had always been merely nippy. She never thought she would be making a half-hearted snow angel, yet here she was. Making a half-hearted snow angel.

"What are you doing?"

"Hi Pippin!" She said. "Nice scarf."

"Oh. Thank you."

"You okay?"

Pippin sat down beside her. "Yes." She waited. Eventually, he mumbled, "Is Frodo going to be okay?" while staring down at his clasped hands.

"Of course! He's tough, he'll be alright." She reassured. She tried not to think of that vile ring and the way it had called to her on several occasions.

"That's what Aragorn said."

"And you don't believe him?"

"No, I believe him.. I just want to be sure." He looked up her expectantly.

"What?"

"You told us you were a seer."

"Oh, Pip. I was only joking." She said, gently. His face fell. "But," She quipped. "Frodo's strong. He'll be able to do this." _I'm not good at this pep-talk thing, am I?_ It was very disconcerting for her to see Pippin in such a mood. He was happy about 99% of the time and she hated seeing him so downcast. "Hey." She whispered. "Want to see me annoy Legolas?"

He smiled and nodded. She finished her snow angel and hopped up, determined to get the Hobbit cheered up. Legolas was situated an estimated ten metres away. _Target located._ "Leggy-bear?"

"You said you would never call me that."

She observed him for a moment, then, very seriously, said, "Why is rum gone?"


	13. Of Rabbits and Blondes

**Chapter Thirteen: Of Rabbits and Blondes**

_"_**It's too late to change your mind,  
>Even though this fragile world is tearing apart at the seams,<br>We can't wash these sins away, This sinking feeling everyday:  
>I'm waking up in someone else's life."<br>- Evanescence, Erase this.  
><strong>__

__Dear Weather, __

__You are an ugly, incompetent buffoon. No one likes you.__

__Insincerely, __

__Ms. E. J. Sparrow. __

The letter was scrawled hastily in the snow. She had left several identical annotations around Caradhras, to express her new distaste for the climate. She wrote a few other letters about the height of the mountain (She made the mistake of looking down. Never, ever look down. Ever. Unless you're wholly unafraid of heights, then, by all means, go ahead.) What I wouldn't give to be in the Harry Potter world. Or Pokémon. Or Percy Jackson. But not Twilight. Definitely not Twilight. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, teeth chattering. If she thought walking on the ground was bad, walking on snow was horrendous. Her leggings were soaked from the knee down.

"And since we've no place to go, Stop snowing, stop snowing, stop snowing..." She half sung, half grumbled. I think I'll go and annoy Gandalf. I haven't done that in at least an hour.

Legolas had felt the brunt of the tidal wave that was her unoccupied time. He had the patience of a saint to tolerate her, though he had thousands of years practice. "Gandalf?" She fell into step beside him. The wizard pretended to concentrate on a patch of sky that hadn't received his attention yet.

"Gandalf? Gandalf? Gandalf? Gaaandalf?"

He sighed, knowing it would be futile to snub her for very much long. "What do you want?"

"We're on a mountain, Gandalf!"

Ah, how I love Charlie the Unicorn references. A startled yelp caught her attention. Upon turning back, she found Frodo slipping down the harsh incline. Aragorn caught him just in time and Boromir picked up the Ring."Boromir?"

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer. So much fear and doubt over a small thing... such a little thing..." Shall I interfere? No. Wait, yes. No. Yes. Must make my mind up... No, I'll let this play out. I know it's going to be okay. It's not like Boromir DIES or- oh. Yeah.

"Boromir!" Crap, why don't I ever listen to myself?

"Boromir, give the Ring to Frodo."

He snapped out of his trance, all glimmers of greed gone from his eyes. "As you wish. I care not." He smiled hollowly and ruffled Frodo's hair. She couldn't help feeling proud of him. She did her absolute best not to get too close to the Ring. It tempted her and she felt it's irresistible power. She knew how hard it was to walk away from such temptation. She caught Boromir's eye and smiled.

She turned back to carry on and, for the hundredth time, Elizabeth fell over. She had been doing her best to keep her balance, but snow and ice are slippery and a convenient arm wasn't there to grab onto. So, she fell. Aragorn tried, and failed, to hide his amused chuckle. "I'll have you know." She said. "That, under normal circumstances, I have damn good balance."

"If your balance is so good, why did you fall?"

"Oh my God, Aragorn, you can't just ask people why they fall over." The reference went straight over his head and he didn't bother to ask. She snickered. Ever since she had caught him tapping along to a Lady Gaga song she was singing, he backed down far too easily. They had travelled far that day, and she knew it was nearly time for the next big step: The Pass of Caradhras. _And you know what that means? Lots more snow. _

She scooped up a handful of snow and, to her joy, found it to be sufficient for one, small snowball. "Lady?" She grinned. His feet coming closer. "Elizabeth?" Without much consideration for direction, she whirled around and chucked the snow at a very startled Aragorn. _Hahaha! He looks like a rabbit when he's startled. _

Her pleasure at his expense was extremely short lived, as her shot missed by about a mile. He stared at her for a moment. "How old are you?"

"Twenty five."

"Don't think you should be setting an example?"

"I am. I'm the bad example."

She wanted to shove Legolas off the mountain. _Oh, look at him there, walking on the snow. Bastard. His face makes me want to hit him with a hammer. _She glared at him from below. He smirked, glad to irk her without resorting to childish measures. The blizzard was blinding. No metaphor was needed to explain that. It was blinding. Snowflakes pelted down on them, preventing them from seeing more than a few metres ahead and clung to garments and hair. It was so cold that frost started to collect on her hair and clothes. She tapped the man in front of her. "H-Hey, Aragorn?"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, unwilling to be the butt of her interminable jokes. Walking onwards, rather than looking back to face her, he said, "Yes?"

"Why don't _blondes_ like buttered toast?" She called, putting extra emphasis on 'blonde', making sure Elven ears could hear above the wind.

This was one he hadn't heard before. What do blondes have to do with anything? "Why?"

"Because they can't figure out which side the butter goes on."

"What does that have to do with hair?" The Hobbit-shaped lump on his back shivered. She wasn't sure who was under there, but vowed to make several innuendos about being under Aragorn's cloak.

They were interrupted by Legolas, whose timing was less than impeccable, saying, "There is a fell voice in the air!"

"Oh no! Who could have foreseen this interesting turn of events?"

"It is Saruman!"

A flash of lightning licked across the sky and she jumped, startled. _Shit. Not a storm, not a storm, not a storm. _Thunder dinned in the distance. Quiet, soft thunder but it was enough to make her scream, "I'm too young to die! I never even got to see the Deathly Hallows Part 2!" A variety of debris fell from above. No matter how pretty it looked under the golden glow of the sun, they still hurt like nobody's business when they hit you.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!"

"Bloody hell!" Elizabeth barely jumped out of path of a rapidly descending snow drift.

"_Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith!_" **(Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!) **Chanted Gandalf, raising his staff.

Saruman's voice strengthened, rolling past the fellowship like another clap thunder. A lightning crack exploded on the mountainside above them. Elizabeth looked up in horror as an avalanche roared towards them. She threw herself against the cliff face as snow piled around them. Within moments, the pass was blocked and the group enveloped in snow. She dug through to the surface, humming the Indiana theme. "Don't worry about me. I was simply excavating that spot for dinosaur bones. It's not like I was covered in ice or anything." She quivered. How could anyone stand this cold?

"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city."

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard."

"Yeah," She whined. "I'm tired, can't we just go through the Mines now?"

"The girl talks sense. If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go though the Mines of Moria."

"Let the Ring bearer decide."

_Amazing. When I talk in the middle of an important scene, I still can't make them say other stuff. _The burden of the decision was weighing down on the Halfling. Merry and Pippin shivered, clinging to Boromir. _Aww, I forgot how nice Boromir was! Hold on, no. I do not, under any conditions, want to hug him, make him tea and share my sweets with him. _

"We will go through the Mines."

"Spiffing." She blew on her hands to warm them. "Let's get off this damn mountain."

* * *

><p>"God save our gracious Queen, long live our noble Queen..."<p>

"Who is this Queen you speak of?"

Ah, yet another camping scene in this tale of epic proportions. They were gathered around a – yes, you guessed it – a camp fire. Night had fallen and the sky was almost a deep purple with small points of light where the stars were scattered. Legolas was laying back, watching the stars. The Hobbit's were out for the count and Aragorn was scouting around, most likely doing whatever Rangers do. Elizabeth wasn't really very interested. She put her head in her hands. "The Queen of my country. She's called Elizabeth as well."

"Is she a noble queen?" Boromir was suddenly quite interested in her home and nation.

"I think she tries her best." She chose her words carefully. "But there's no way she could eradicate all the bad stuff that goes on in the country. Then again, England was never really my true home. My home is in Ireland." She sighed.

Boromir nodded, not really having much idea what she was saying, yet assuming it was something pleasant. "Do you miss it?"

She retaliated. "Do you miss Gondor?"

"Point taken." He chuckled. "Gondor will always be my home, I miss it deeply."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, just watching the flames devour the wood. After a while, she spoke. "Can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for a response, she went right ahead. "Why is it a horn of Gondor? What's wrong with a nice xylophone?"

"I do not know what a xylophone is. The horn was given to me by my father. It was made from the horn of a wild ox of Rhun."

"Oh." She said. "I still think a xylophone would carry a nice tune."

"The Great Horn is not for musical use. It is only sounded in a time of great need."

She looked him right in the eye. "Stop. Calling. Me. Lady. My name is Elizabeth. I call you Boromir all the time. Want me to use YOUR title?"

"There is no need for my title." He murmured. "However, it would be not be proper to call you otherwise."

"If you're going to call me by a title. You may as well call me 'High-Queen-of-Nonsense-Land' because that's where I live most days." She ranted. "Do you know what Elizabeth means? It means to be truthful and intelligent. So, technically, calling me that would be more complimentary than calling me Lady."

"You are absurd." He muttered.

"Yes. Absurdly amazing. If you're so high and mighty, what does _your_ name mean?"

"To my knowledge, my name means 'steadfast, trustworthy jewel'."

"Ah." Her plan backfired. "Yeah, well..." She struggled to find something intelligent to say, as if to prove she had been given her name for a reason. "Ask me if I'm a tree."

"Are you a tree?"

"No."

* * *

><p><em>The angel, if she was that, was back. Elizabeth found herself by the ocean once again and unable to move. "Who are you?" She asked through clenched jaw. The lady had tears pouring down her lovely cheeks and she seemed indifferent to them. This time, Elizabeth could see more clearly and the lady had the face of a tortured saint or a martyr with those big, mournful eyes. Yet she smiled, like she was pleased to see her.<em>

"_Lost One." The stranger spoke. Lost One? Elizabeth had been called that before, when the thought that sprang unbridled to her mind as she was fighting the Ringwraiths. "Lost One, you-"_

_Then Elizabeth was falling, longing to know what the angel had said and wanting to know why she was falling through rapidly breaking tea cups. The fragile porcelain shattered, the elaborate pink and gold fine china alien against the blackness in which she was falling._


	14. Of Dancing and Food

**Chapter Fourteen: Of Food and Dances**

"_**Bless your soul, you've got your head in the clouds,  
>She made a fool out of you, and, boy, she's bringing you down,<br>She made your heart melt, but you're cold to the core,  
>Now rumour has it she ain't got your love any more."<br>- Adele, Rumour Has It. **_

"Frosty the Snowdwarf-" She was cut off, promptly, by Gimli clapping his hands over his ears and glaring at her. "Oh, come on! My singing isn't _that_ terrible... right?" Silence. "Well, that's quite rude." She muttered. The song had been concocted when she first spotted him with a small mountain in his beard. She nearly died giggling. That's when she learned that the phrase "I laughed so much, I think I wet myself!" was not acceptable.

The road to Moria was taking longer than expected. The pretty scenery was all well and good, but after weeks of walking and sleeping on rocks, it was all starting to get a bit tedious. When they came to the all too familiar location, Elizabeth stared out at the deep, murky waters, knowing what lurked beneath. _Mental Note: Don't let anyone chuck anything in the water. _She thought, nudging a stray pebble with her foot. The leather of the boots had been broken in and still shaped themselves to the arch of her foot, despite the abuse they had suffered. The fellowship walked along the far shore, directly below the looming cliffs.

"The walls of Moria!"

Footing was treacherous on the narrow strip of moss-covered stones. Not that anyone was interested in that nugget of information, but, Reader, I felt like setting the scene. Gandalf touched the smooth rock wall and, slowly, faint lines appeared like slender veins of luminous silver running through the stone. "Wow, that's pretty." She said.

"Ithildin. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight." A large moon rose over the mountains. The lines grew broader and clearer, forming a glowing arch of interlacing letters and symbols.

"Holy haberdashery, Batman!" She exclaimed and leaned forward to trace the lines with her fingertip.

"It reads, 'The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter." _Mellon. The password is mellon. Shall I tell them? No. Yes. Wait, no. Oh God, not this again. No, I'll let them figure it out. _

"Om nom nom nom..." She whispered instead. Sam inched away from her.

"What do you suppose that means?" Asked Merry.

"It means that we are going to waste a hell of a lot of time and I get to spend some quality time with you guys!" She grinned.

"No." Gandalf glared at her. "It means, if you are a friend, speak the passwords and the doors will open."

She indicated the doors. "Off you go. Knock yourself out. Let me know when you get tired of feeling up rocks." She went to stand by Legolas. "Hey, Legolas? Hasn't anyone told you green leotards are so last century?" No comment.

"_Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen_!" The wind blew cold for a moment and, as predicted, the door stood fast. Elizabeth laughed but the sound was smothered when she caught the look Aragorn was sending her. Even she had to admit, the place made laughter seem hollow and eerie.

"Hey. Hey, Legolas?" Nothing. "Are you ignoring me?" Still nothing. "Do you want to hear my cheer leading chant? It's perfectly designed to give you courage during battle!" Nope, he wasn't saying a word, simply staring listlessly up at the moon. "Okey-dokey, I'll take that as a 'Yes, I would be delighted to hear your chant because you are my bestest friend in the whole world.'" She cleared her throat. "Mirkwood, Mirkwood, sis boom bah! Legolas, Legolas RAH RAH RAH-"

"That's quite enough, thank you!" He said, in something resembling a squeak, covering his pointed ears. "What is it you want?"

She smiled serenely. "Nothing." He growled in frustration.

_He must think I'm completely mental, but seeing as I _am_ completely mental, I've nothing to worry about. Speaking of mentality, it absolutely stinks here. Oh wait, that's just Aragorn dominating the air with his stench. My bad. _"Aragorn?"

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

"That's nice."

"Have you got any food? No one trusts me to carry any."

"That is because you eat it all."

"I get hungry! What am I meant to do?"

He sighed and rummaged in Bill's saddle bags. She walked a couple of paces to pat him on the nose, the pony's muzzle felt velvety-soft under her fingers. _Bye bye, Bill. I see now that you are not, in any way, a man-eating horse. I do apologise. _Aragorn resurfaced from his dive into a bag with, most likely, no bottom, holding a dried apple. She wrinkled her nose. "Not to be rude or anything, but do we have anything else?"

"This is all you get. Think of it as punishment for teaching Pippin that... dance."

"What, the Macarena? C'mon, that dance is legendary!" He thrust the preserved fruit at her, making it perfectly clear what he thought of the Macarena. Gandalf was still mumbling spells in his efforts to open the door. She flounced away with fake indignation, still peering at the apple with disgust and plonked herself next to Boromir, who was trying his best to blend in with the wall. She popped the fruit into her mouth and chewed, grimacing at the sour taste.

After pulling a face and swallowing, she raised her eyes to meet Boromir's. "What?"

He shook his head, "I wouldn't have thought that to be to your taste."

She snorted. "Yeah. Pies, meat, chocolate, small buildings, nothing I won't eat as long as it's not healthy. I'm running out of options, though." She tightened her ponytail, pulling the free strands back. "I miss chocolate..."

"...Mines are no place for a pony, even one so brave as Bill."

"Buh-bye Bill." Sam sniffed.

"Hey, Boromir? I'll give you a bit of advice, if you want."

"What is it?"

"I'll phrase it in the form of a Latin proverb, partly because I'm not good at the whole affection thing, unless it's sarcastic. And it's the only thing I can remember from my entire school career." Boromir raised his eyebrows expectantly. She took a deep breath. "Te occidere possunt sed te edere non possunt nefas est."

"It is a beautiful language. What does it mean?"

"They can kill you, but they cannot eat you, it is against the law."

"How... fascinating."

"Boromir?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever had a dream where-" Splash.

_Bollocks. I was meant stop that from happening. _She glanced over and saw black, rippling rings slowly fanning out on the waters. _Damn you Boromir! _"Do not disturb the water."

"Yes." She agreed. "Because there is a giant squid in their, who will most likely want to eat you."

Merry and Pippin tittered nervously, unsure if she was joking or not. The ripples grew and Aragorn reached for his weapon. Gandalf sat down in despair like a sack of potatoes. The oldest, thinnest sack of potatoes you've ever seen. The sack of potatoes you would never buy at the supermarket, even if you were going to a potato party and just needed a lot of potatoes. But I digress.

"It is a riddle."_Yay! We're getting somewhere! _"Speak, friend, and enter. What is the Elvish word for friend?"

"MELLON!" Bellowed Elizabeth. The rock face silently divided in the centre and two great doors swung outwards, revealing a blackness deeper than the night.


	15. Of Labels and Facepalms

**Chapter Fifteen: Of Labels and Face-palming**

_"_**I will survive, as long as I know how to love,  
>I know I'll stay alive, I've got all my life to live,<br>I've got all my love to give,  
>And I'll survive."<br>- Gloria Gaynor, I Will Survive.**__

She marched into the mines, tripping several times from lack of light and sat down on the floor. _There's no point going back out only to go back in again. So I'll sit here and watch everyone flounder about like headless chickens. Or fish. Or candyfloss. It really smells. Oh wait. That's just Aragorn dominating- Ah. Already used that one. That's highly unoriginal. Bad Lizzie. _She gave herself a slap as a scolding.

The rest of the fellowship stepped warily into the darkness of Moria, looking at the dank cavern, and at the winding steps leading deeper into the mountain. "Soon, master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin and they call this a mine!" He snorted. "A mine!"

"Elizabeth?" Asked one of the Hobbit's; the darkness prevented her from seeing her own hand, yet alone another person.

"Yes?"

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

"Because of what's about to happen."

A glow from Gandalf's staff lit up the chamber and Elizabeth jumped as she found herself sitting next to a Dwarf skeleton peppered with arrows. The whole room was strewn with skeletons wearing rusting armour and shields. "This is no mine, this is a tomb."

"No!" Gimli moaned, grief stricken. She sat quietly in the corner, feeling incredibly sorry for Gimli.

Legolas pulled a crude arrow out of a corpse and spoke his infamous line. "Goblins!"

_Why is he always labelling things? "A fell voice!" "Crebain from Dunland!" "Goblins!" I mean, come on, dude! Be more imaginative. He could have his own brand: The Legolas Label Maker. For all your obvious labelling needs. _The remainder of the group drew swords and backed away towards the door. "You're making a mistake!" Said the girl in the corner, only to realize no one was really paying attention to her.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here."

Elizabeth saw it before anyone else. A long, dark tentacle shot out of the water, advancing to the unsuspecting Frodo. "Um, guys, don't want to worry you or anything, but a monster is about to grab our Ring-bearer by the foot." She kicked the appendage, making in flinch, but wasn't enough to stop it wrapping itself around Frodo's ankle and pulling him to the ground.

"Gandalf! This would be a good time to give me my staff back!" She yelled, gaining the attention of her companions. Frodo cried out, as one would deem appropriate for being dragged towards a flesh-eating monster. Aragorn rushed forward and severed the tentacle holding Frodo.

All was going to according to plan, until a large, wooden object hit Elizabeth on the bridge of her nose. "Ow! Who threw that?"

"You asked for your staff." Said Gandalf simply. "It is not my fault if you couldn't see it coming."

She growled "Still sore about last night's joke are we?"

(_"Hey, Gandalf?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Want to hear a joke?" _

"_Another one?" _

"_Yeah, I made it up myself!"_

"_Very well, but this will the last I hear by the end of the night."_

"_Yeah, Yeah, okay. Why did the chicken cross the road?"_

"_Why?"_

"_To rescue Gandalf!" _Needless to say, he had been outraged.)

She picked up the staff anyway and ran to join the fight. Boromir hacked at the other writhing limbs, swinging his sword in arcs to land blows that would have been deadly to another creature. Twenty more tentacles ripple out of the lake and the dark water boiled as the hideous beast lashed out. "Strider!" Shouted Sam.

Frodo called out from the grip of the Watcher. "Help!"

"Aragorn!"

"Mister Frodo!"

"Legolas?"

"DONKEY!" Screamed Elizabeth, quite fed up with this overgrown squid.

_This sounded better in my head. _She was currently running around, not being much help at all. She waved the staff in the air, making an attempt to look menacing. The Watcher grabbed Frodo and pulled him back towards the lake. She ninja-rolled out the way of a tentacle, swinging wildly to fend off the attackers. He was flung into the air as Elizabeth did her best to help. Her idea of helping tended to consist of skipping around, pretending to be a ninja and rolling out of the path of any debris coming her way.

Aragorn sliced at the limb, Frodo was released, falling conveniently into Boromir's arms. "Into the mines!"

"Legolas!" The Elf shot the Watcher in it's great head, gaining a couple of vital seconds (especially for Elizabeth, who, if not dragged by the arm, would have continued to ninja-roll straight into the lake). The group hurriedly retreated into the chamber as many coiling arms seized the large doors. With a shattering echo, the creature ripped the doors away, creating a rock slide that crashed down the cliff face. Within seconds, tons of rock seal the doorway, throwing the fellowship into pitch blackness.

"Well." She stated. "What a pickle we find ourselves in."

A faint glow rose from Gandalf's staff, the light playing with shadows. "We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and more fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world."

"In other words, something worse than Aragorn smells." _I'm making a lot of jokes at Aragorn's expense lately. Almost like the almighty author of creation is too lazy to come up with anything better. _She caught Boromir's eye. "I sense a disturbance in the Force." She said, then tipped her head like they had an inside joke.

Gandalf led the way, followed by Frodo and Sam. She gently caught the Hobbit by the arm. "You okay?" She whispered and he nodded, face tired and drawn. She stuck her tongue out of Legolas, in an immense act of immaturity, while Gimli hid his smile by turning away. Then came Merry and Pippin, a little shaken from the Watchers violent acts, but otherwise fine and dandy. That was where she slotted herself, after Pippin but before Boromir. _This way, I get to have fun AND I get to tell Boromir all these splendid jokes I've been thinking of! Such fun._

The mines of Moria, she soon discovered, was not a place to be trifled with. The stone hallways and stairs were crumbling, much like a jam tart left for too long in the sun. Rocks and pieces of armour littered the floor, making it difficult to go anywhere without stepping on something or other.

She sneezed, the sound reverberating horribly. "Shhhh!" Complained Gandalf.

She whisper-shouted, "Alright! Keep your hair on, Mr. Librarian!" Then, continued, "Hey, Gimli?"

"What is it?"

"What's this?" She proclaimed, holding up the scrap of paper that escaped the threads of Gimli's pack.

Upon realizing what it was, Gimli growled, "Give it back. Now."

"Not my fault I found it! I'm innocent!"

"I care not where it was found, I demand you give it back."

She snickered and began to read it out, "My dearest Gimmers, it is I, Elaebrylla -"

The dramatic reading was halted by Gimli snatching it out of her hand. "That's private!"

"If it was so private, why did you leave your pack open, so carelessly?"

"I thought you were innocent!"

"I am!" She could have sworn he was blushing, even in the gloom.

"I'm carrying my pack! I am certain it wasn't open!"

"It was open when I opened it!"

"Eh? Give your word to-"

"Who's Elaebrylla?"

"No one. Now, give your word-"

"If she's no one, then why did she write you a letter?"

"Give your word that you will not repeat to another living thing what you read."

"And if I don't?"

"That metal contraption you hold so dear will meet an unfortunate end."

She gasped, "Not my iPod! Fair enough, I won't tell-"

She stopped talking. They had come to a precarious bridge above deep mine workings. "Quietly, now. It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed." _Another four days? Dammit, why did I spend the entire film swooning at Orlando Bloom, when I should been paying attention to the important plots! How long did it take them in the books? Can't remember. Four days? Of this? Of being quiet? _She face-palmed, and would have fallen to her death if Boromir hadn't caught her arm, to prevent her tripping over the edge.


	16. Of Courage and Angles

**Chapter Sixteen: Of Courage and Angles**

"**_Hey Julie, look what they're doing to me  
>Trying to trip me up, trying to wear me down<br>Julie, I swear, it's so hard to bear it,  
>And I'd never make it through without you around."<br>- Foundations Of Wayne, Hey Julie. _**

Legolas was annoyed. Why was he annoyed, you ask? Take a wild stab in the dark. Yes, 20 Reader points to you! It was Elizabeth's doing. She seized the opportunity of the rubble on the ground and had quite taken to throwing inanimate objects at him and then pretending it wasn't her. Not that he was fooled, of course, he did his best to ignore her and hoped it would go away. So far, it hadn't worked. She continued to pester him for all she worth. It was like she concentrated all the energy she had and directed it onto him. For example:

"Legolas? Legolas, you can't keep ignoring me forever and ever."

"I believe I can." He said stiffly, already jittery from the stone confines of Moria.

"Ha! Got you to talk! I win!"

"I wasn't aware it was a competition."

"Anyway, I was just wondering-"

"Lady, excuse my manners, but you never simply wonder about things."

She sniffed. "I do so. I was wondering, why don't you have a girlfriend?"

"A what?"

"You know..." She whispered conspiratorially. "A ladyfriend...Even Gimli has one."

"In all due respect, I don't think that's any of your business."

She gasped. "You're in love with Aragorn, aren't you? How can you stand him being in love with another!" She then proceeded to cry dramatically and hug the startled Elf. The others watched on in bemusement, secretly glad it wasn't them.

The first day passed. Gimli and Frodo gave the impression they did not want to talk. Understandable, really. But they weren't much fun for Elizabeth. Aragorn stayed pretty much neutral in all affairs and had taken to having less facial expressions than Kristan Stewart. Also not fun. Legolas tried to be wherever she was not. _Very_ not fun. She had decided to keep her distance from Gandalf; she didn't want to be hit in the face with a staff again. Yes, the first day passed. It was dull. The days and nights blurred into one and, before she knew it, Gandalf was sat staring intently at the three tunnels. "I have no memory of this place."

"Fantastic."

A faint noise in the tunnel behind them made Frodo turn, pale brow furrowed. "There's something down there." Normally, she would have made a sarcastic comment like, _That's what she said, _or _You need a Legolas Label Maker._ However, upon seeing the pallid complexion and tired eyes, she thought it best to hold back a little. "It is Gollum..."

_I'm bored of this conversation. Hmmm..._She made a point of coughing when the thick, nutty smoke from Aragorn's pipe wafted her way. Picking up the twig beside her, she drew in the dirt absent-mindedly, sketching a menagerie of animals, an approximation of a hairdryer and a Christmas tree. To make it seem extra-realistic, she added a tiny star on top of the tree. "Elizabeth?"

She stopped drawing her latest creation and looked up. "Boromir." She replied, in a mockingly serious tone, then adding an, "Oh."

"What is it?"

"Have you always been that tall?"

"I presume so."

"You look different from this angle." She said thoughtfully, uncrossing then recrossing her stiff legs. "But what did you want?"

"I think you may have dropped this." He extended an arm and on the open palm, was one of the buttons from her pirate-like shirt. The button appeared surprisingly small and fragile in his calloused hand. Glancing down she saw, indeed, that the last button on the material was missing.

"Oh, cheers." She said gratefully, taking it and slipping in into her pack. She went back to her 'modern art'. Boromir cleared his throat pointedly. She sighed and flicked her eyes back up. "Can I help you?"

"Lady Elizabeth, I mean no offence, but would you please consider being less... um..."

"Charming?"

"No, not that-"

"Gorgeous? Funny? Talented?"

His cheeks coloured slightly. "No, would you consider being less... juvenile?" She gave him 'The Look', which mainly involved maintaining the air of mental rejection and raising one eyebrow. He continued. "As vaguely entertaining as it is to watch you irritate our Elven associate, I fear it is taking the toll of his psyche."

She glanced over to where Legolas was standing. He was nervously pacing the perimeter of the group. She had never seen an Elf so on-edge. "But," She stated. "If I lay off one person, one other person gets double! Will that person be _you_?" He did look a little scared, but soldiered one, none the less. Taking on double Elizabeth was a truly courageous act.

"I am sure I will regret it in the future, I am willing to accept the consequences." He put on a smile.

"Wow." She said, nearly choking on her own saliva. "In my years of living, no one has ever volunteered for extra time with me." She grew excited. "Think of all the things I could do! Wait, can I do one last thing? Please?"

"Very well. Make it quick and painless."

"Not so sure about painless..." She muttered, before pretending to stand tall and to carry a bow and quiver. "Hey! Guys!" They turned. Her beloved Leggy-bear wore an expression of one who was unprepared for a tornado. "Look everyone! I'm being Legolas!" She pulled an imaginary arrow from her make-believe quiver and fired it at Merry, who promptly began to act out a death scene. "Hello, I'm Legolas. I like saying ominous things at random intervals, looking around rapidly and squinting."

Pippin was chortling with laughter. He was giggling so loudly, in a way that made her think he was attempting to keep quiet, that they missed Gandalf saying; "Ah! That is the way!" In turn, that made Gandalf wizard pointed to the right hand tunnel, only to realize that, still, no one was listening.

After a few minutes, in which she was still laughing, the fellowship assembled to traverse the passageway. Too late did Elizabeth recall that Merry had not spoken the 'He's remembered!' line.

_Maybe screwing with Tolkien's world isn't such a good idea...Hahaha! Almost believed myself for a second. Wow, that never gets old. _They passed under an arched doorway, into a black, empty space. Gandalf, even though roiled from Elizabeth's continuous shenanigans and capers, thought it not best to alienate her. These were dark times and they had to all stick together. Not in a High School Musical sort of way, more of an A-team sort of way. Yet again, I digress.

* * *

><p>"Boromir?" Elizabeth asked sleepily. The days and nights had blurred together, making it difficult to know when they were meant to be sleeping.<p>

"Yes?"

She tried to capture the essence of the conversation outside of the mines. "Have you ever had a dream so real, you thought it was actually happening?"

He nodded and took his shield off his back and onto the ground beside him. "Yes. Prophetic dreams are not rare in my family."

She explained, "I keep having these strange dreams. There's this woman and the sea. I remember that the woman wasn't even a woman, she looked more like angel than human."

Boromir mulled this over for a minute or so but when he turned back to speak his mind, he felt pressure on his leather clad shoulder. She was fast asleep. He shook his head and slowly lifted her off and onto her sleeping pack. Hands lingering a little longer than they should on her sleeping face. She didn't dream at all that night.


	17. Of Tigers and Trees

**Chapter Seventeen: Of Tigers and Trees**

"_**I looked across the battlefield,  
>Blood seeping from my wounds,<br>My comrades, they did never yield,  
>For courage knows no bounds."<br>- Heather Alexander, Courage Knows No Bounds.**_

"Let me risk a little more light." Gandalf tapped his staff. For a brief moment, a light brazes like a silent flash of lightning, then settles to a steady glow, enough to chase away the shadows.

"Hey, Boromir?" She whispered.

"Yes?"

"Would you still love me if I was a tree?" He was so surprised by this question that he managed to bang his knee on his shield. He hissed. For Elizabeth, it was fun to watch the bear-like man clutch his injured knee and mutter, all the while trying to keep quiet. _Why am I being ignored today? Me no like being ignored... Oh, who cares? Tinfoil's shiny!_

"Behold! The great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." Frodo gasped at the sight of a vast roof, far above their heads, upheld by many mighty pillars hewn of stone. A huge empty hall stretched before them, with black walls, polished and smooth as glass.

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake." Said Sam.

"Wow..." She breathed. "Gotta give it to ya, Gimli, this is really something."

He swelled with pride, despite himself. "Dwarves have always been the better craftsmen." He glared a Legolas.

With a new found energy and grief, he gave a terrible cry and charged to where a glimmer of light could be seen through a crack in a door. _Ah. I know what part this is. _She clutched her staff tighter and ran after him. Ahead, a wooden door was smashed. Black arrows embedded in the timbers, two goblin skeletons lie in the doorway. She vaguely heard a shout of "Gimli! Elizabeth!" They rushed into another vast chamber, lit with a narrow shaft of sunlight beaming in from a small hole in the roof. Dwarf and Goblin bodies piled high. In far corner sat a stone walled well. The light fell directly onto a stone block; a single oblong about 4 feet high, topped with a slab of white stone. The remainder of the fellowship filed in behind them.

"No...no...oh, no!" He sobbed.

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The emotion was all a bit too much for her and she nearly giggled. _No, mustn't laugh. There's nothing funny about this. I just don't handle strong bouts of emotion well. _She restrained herself. She really, _really, _didn't want to laugh. Because when short, hairy Dwarves with axes aren't laughing, no one's laughing.

Gandalf quietly read the inscription of runes, carved into the white stone slab. "'Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria.' His is dead, then. It is as I had feared."

_Oh, shit. I should have stopped us from coming here. Dammit. _Gandalf carefully lifted the rotting remains of a book from the tomb; it had been slashed and stabbed and appeared to be covered in dried blood. Or cranberry juice. But is was more likely to be dried blood. The pages cracked and broke as he opened it.

"We must move on, we cannot linger." Said Legolas, but with a quick 'shut up, Leggy-bear.' from Elizabeth, he quieted down.

Gandalf began to read, "'They have taken the Bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long... the ground shakes... drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming." She shivered and looked up just in time to see Pippin backing away nervously. She hurried over and steadied the precariously placed skeleton.

Pippin smiled at her in relief and was about to thank her when she stumbled. It all happened it clichéd slow-motion. She tripped on Merry, who was ready to steady Pippin, and, with her hands flailing, tumbled onto the stone well. And knocked not one, but TWO skeletons over and into the blackness. The fellowship froze in stunned silence as the armoured skeletons clattered down the deep well, echoing loudly. Gandalf turned, horrified.

_I knew I'd do something like this. _She chastised herself. The others wore equally scared/worried/disbelieving/insert-adjective-here expressions. The skeletons bounced and ricocheted off each other while falling, making double the noise Pippin would have made. She cringed as the chains hit the bottom first, then the weights, then the bones. Gandalf stared at her with such contempt she was astounded laser beams didn't shoot from his eyes. She cleared her throat. "Would it make it any less awkward if I said we could laugh about this tomorrow?" Boromir sighed and the tension was broken.

"Foolish girl! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" _So much for changing the story line... _Everyone fell silent. A low, rolling boom rose from the depths below.

"Hell." She cursed. It was growing louder. BOOM. BOOM. It was as if the caverns of Moria were turned into a vast drum. BOOM. BOOM. A horn blasted near by. Answering horns. Running feet. Harsh cries. Orc cries.

"Mr. Frodo!" Said Sam, worried.

Elizabeth looked at the cold, blue glow emanating from Sting's scabbard. Frodo drew the short sword and stared at the blade. "Ah, blue. The irresistible classic. It serves as effective stealth colouration while cliff-diving onto bandits on a clear day. They won't know what hit them."

"This is no time for your meaningless rambling! Hold your staff close and find a blade amongst the bodies." Instructed Gandalf. She was about to protest that her ramblings weren't meaningless, but then thought better of it and found a rusted knife in the bones of a deceased Dwarf.

"Orcs!" Declared Legolas._Aaaand Captain Obvious strikes again!_

"Get back, stay close to Gandalf." Said Aragorn to the Hobbit's. _Not to me, I notice. How inconsiderate. I'll show him. _Boromir ran to close the doors, as he did so, two rough, black arrows came whistling out of the darkness. "What was that?"

"I don't know. Go and ask them." She retorted. The motion was not carried. Aragorn and Boromir slam and wedge the doors shut, barricading it shut with about as much efficiency as a wasp is at making honey. (Which isn't very.) _Obviously, they have never made a blanket fort._

Boromir commented to Aragorn, "They have a cave troll." She didn't even though how he possibly could have seen the creature in the gloom but did not further push his patience. She concealed the knife in a handy pocket, she could have sworn wasn't there before, and backed up until her shoulders bumped the wall behind. _This is it. This is fucking it._

Gimli snatched up an axe and leaped onto the tomb. "Let them come! There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!" _Isn't it a little bit disrespectful to be walking all over his cousin's grave? Ooh, better concentrate. Make sarcastic quips later._

Far too soon for her liking, the door began to break. A Goblin poked it's ugly mug through. Elizabeth threw a rock at it, missing of course. Legolas took aim and shot, the arrow hitting the intended target. With a squeal of pain, the creature went down. The door fully burst open in a shower of wood fragments and splinters, Goblins and Orcs flooded the chamber like cockroaches.

Legolas fired many arrows and all ended up embedded in a skull. She shuddered. Fighting was a lot more... bloody than she'd thought it would be. _C'mon Lizzie, don't think about it like that. Think about it like...um, like..._

She had no time to finish that train of thought, as one Goblin/Orc/Thing (she really couldn't be too sure.) caught her eye and bared it's teeth in horrible mockery of a smile. Another part of her took over. She opened her arms as an invitation and spoke earnestly, "Come at me Bro." It did just that. With a snarl of delight it charged at her.

What it didn't see was her staff protruded outwards in imitation of medieval lance. With an audible 'oof', it hit the wood and fell to the ground in pain, groaning. She laughed. An odd sound in a place of battle. But then again, she had always been an odd fish. _In hindsight, he hit himself in the stomach with a stick. That's funny. _She hovered over it, unsure. _Should I kill it? Knock it out? What? _Fortunately, her question was answered when Aragorn stepped back and stood on the creature's head. She winced at the fracturing of bones and flesh.

That's when the Cave Troll made it's entrance. Everyone was engaged in fighting. The clang of steel against steel and the battle cries and shrieks was giving her a headache. Another ran at her and as she was about to kick it in the unmentionables, an arrow shot from high above and the thing went down with a sick, wet splatter. She glanced up and saw Legolas fending off several Goblins while trying to get a good shot at the Cave Troll. "Thanks Legolas." She muttered sarcastically. "For stealing my thun- Arragh!"

That sentence was cut short by the Cave Troll whipping it's chain anywhere and everywhere. She jumped back, crashing into the chest of yet another foul beast. It watched her with big, milky eyes and she almost felt pity for it. Then it tried to stab her and she wasn't having any of that. She gave it's head a swift knock at the head. The Troll was sweeping it's club at Aragorn. He stumbled backwards, the huge club descending for the killing blow. Suddenly, in a flash of steel, Boromir's longsword sliced into the scaly arm. She released a breath she was unaware of holding as the thing reared back, the wound spewing green blood.

"Everybody was kung-fu fighting, na na nana na NA." She walloped nearby Orcs on the head. She handled fighting the same way she handled everything else: with complete disregard for tradition with a tiny bit of skill thrown in. Which is why, if you were there (You weren't), you could have been able to spot her skipping past warriors like Gimli, humming happily to herself and swinging her staff in not-so-life-threatening arcs. _I don't know why everybody doesn't do this, it's so much fun!_

The air had a faint, musty quality about it, not to mention the stench of fresh blood. She heard Sam saying, "I think I'm getting the hang of this." She tried to stay as far away as was humanly possible from the Troll, sticking near Gandalf.

_I hate to admit it, but I ain't no Beowulf. Yet. _She thought, absent-mindedly knocking out one after the other. "It's the EYE OF THE TIGER, IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT." She sang/shouted. _Wow, major adrenaline rush._

"You are the reason my hair line is receding!" Gandalf said, decapitating an Orc. He barely sounded out of breath.

"Nah, it's not receding. It's just running away from me." She retaliated.

The Cave Troll lunged forward, thrusting at Frodo's chest with it's spear. _When did it get a spear? _"Aragorn! Aragorn!" Cried Frodo.

"Never fear! Elizabeth is here!" She announced, darting past several Orcs to get to Frodo. Sam screamed as Frodo was lifted off his feet by the spear tip and slammed against the wall.

"Frodo!" Yelled Aragorn. The Hobbit's, to put it lightly, go batshit crazy. She decided to give it a go as well. Herself and Sam slashed at it's knees, bringing it to it's, well, knees. Merry and Pippin sprang onto it's back, stabbing at it. Legolas fired that final arrow and it went down, toppling over, dead.

"Well." Said Elizabeth. "If I knew this battle business was this easy I would have invested in it years ago."

"You weren't fighting." Growled Gimli. "You were hardly any help at all."

"Ha! You're funny!" She laughed, then became serious. "But looks aren't everything."


	18. Of Woollen Socks and Remixes

**Chapter Eighteen: Of Woollen Socks and Remixes**

"_**Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom,  
>Man made up a story said that I should believe him,<br>Go and tell your white knight that he's handsome in hindsight,  
>But I don't want the next best thing.<br>So I sing and hold my head down and I break these walls round me,  
>Can't take no more of your fairytale love."<br>- Sara Bareilles, Fairytale.**_**  
><strong>

Elizabeth jiggled from one foot to the other. _Yes, Yes, Frodo's alive! Yes! All's well that end's well, bla bla. I have two problems: One, I am scared out of my mind about seeing the Balrog. Two, I need to pee. _BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. She was startled out of her thoughts at the sound of drums ringing out.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" Said Gandalf. No objections were made and they rushed out of that place as fast as humanly possible. He led them into the huge Dwarrowdelf chamber. "This way!" They hurried towards a distant door.

Goblins started scuttling down the pillars behind them like cockroaches, or some other kind of analogy of a beetle. "God dammit! Society is against us!" Exclaimed Elizabeth. Gandalf silenced her with a look. A tricky thing to do. They looked with horror at the overwhelming goblin army that moved towards them like a wave. Fear fluttered in her stomach but she hastily squashed it down, gripping the nearest arm next to her and a deafening roar filled the air. A fiery light danced down the hallway. The pillars cast eerie shadows. The goblins froze. Then, without any warning, they backed away in fear from the the approaching beast, melting into the darkness. "Yeah!" She shouted. "Who's your bitch now! Huh?"

"What is this new devilry?" Hissed Boromir and she started at his proximity to her until she realized it was his arm she clasped so tightly. A huge shadow, surrounded by flame, fell across the hall. The ground shook. An unearthly sound rumbled.

"A Balrog... A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you." With an urgent yell, "Run! Quickly!"

And, boy, did they run. Blood thrummed in her ears and her stomach felt lighter than air. An odd sensation. They sprinted down the long hall. Drums, both in her head and of goblin nature, beat faster and faster and foul chatter filled the air. Boromir, running ahead, cried out. The path dead ahead was broken and below great fires burned. "Boromir!" She snapped, as the Gondorian gave a whoa and spread his arms wide to prevent himself falling to certain death. His arms flailed for a moment before he regained balance in an almost comical movement. "Do you really think now is the time to try to teach the fellowship your Soulja Boy dance?"

Aragorn led them to the top of another dizzying stairway. Gandalf followed, leaning heavily on his staff. Pain and passion reflected in his tired eyes. "Lead them on, Aragorn. The bridge is near." Aragorn was reluctant to let his friend go. He hesitated, knowing something was approaching and that Gandalf intended to face it. Eyes met. "Do as I say; swords are no more use here." After touching Gandalf briefly on the arm, he was gone.

Black arrows were shot, though, thankfully, none meeting their mark. Elizabeth stiffened when a breeze whispered in her hair, knowing an arrow had been released and was mere centimetres away from it's target. Legolas sent answering arrows in return and the reward of multiple screeches echoed in the dark. The fellowship raced down the stairway.

_Ah, if it isn't 'the Gap in the Stairs'. We meet again. _A large space was in between them and the way out. The film did not portray just how far down she would have to fall if she missed. Legolas leapt forward with the grace of a lynx and landed safely on the other side. _Crap. I kind of have to cross that it some point, aren't I?_She wasn't afraid of heights. On the contrary, she revelled in the giddying heights of mountains and of monuments, but miscalculating the jump and plummeting to her demise was not something she had planned on doing that day.

"Gandalf!" Called Legolas. The wizard looked back up towards the hall. A loud growl reverberated and rocks fell around them. He sprang after Legolas, clearing the gap with no problem. More arrows whistled, striking the steps they had occupied moments before. Legolas and Aragorn responded. Merry, Pippin and Boromir soon followed, crossing with minimal effort.

Ack! "Um, ladies first?" She tried, gesturing for Aragorn to go before her. He scowled, patience wearing thin, and began to move towards her. "Wow, wow! Okay, I'm going." She said hastily, not very fond of the idea of Aragorn throwing her unceremoniously across the chasm. She breathed deeply, backing up a few paces to clear the gap. "You can't touch this! Do dada doo." She hummed, leaping with surprising grace, only just managing to place her feet on the other side and nearly tipping backwards. Legolas grabbed her wrist to stop her falling, pulling her behind him.

Sam was thrown by Aragorn and caught by Boromir. Another portion of the staircase fell away, making it even more tricky for Gimli to cross. The Dwarf swallowed and swatted Aragorn's hands away when they attempted to pick him up. "Nobody tosses a Dwarf." He said stoutly.

"That's what she said." Elizabeth snickered.

Before Aragorn could do anything, Gimli swung himself forward. He brushed the edge and nearly fell back into the chasm. Legolas darted forward and caught him by the beard. "Not the beard!" He roared. _When you think about it, Dwarves are like angry beards with legs. Angry, beer-soaked beards with__legs. _

Thankfully, he made it to safety. More of the stone steps crumbled and fell to the fires below. Aragorn pushed Frodo back up the steps and climbed after him. They struggled to their feet and looked at the widened gap that separates them from the rest of the group. What she presumed was the Balrog could be heard from the other hall, it's fire making the air stifling. Structures around the mine collapsed as it drew nearer. A huge rock fell from the ceiling and smashed on the ground below, creating another gap behind Aragorn and Frodo and weakening the stairs' foundation.

"Holy cheese and crackers!" She yelped as more arrows continued the attack.

"Steady. Hold on. Lean forward!"

"Come on! Now!" Spoke Legolas.

They both shifted their weight forward, toppling the stairs across the divide and slamming onto the steps where the others awaited. They ran into another hall (She ran with much reluctance, despite an actual whip being not far behind her. Elizabeth's are generally slow moving creatures) where the hall was split in two with fissures that spit flame."Over the bridge! Fly!" Without even a smart answer from Elizabeth, they raced towards the slender bridge.

_Ooooh, so it's NOW we find out 'The Bridge of Khazad-Dum' was ing of a misnomer. But, I suppose, 'The Tightrope of Khazad-Dum' doesn't quite have the same ring to it. _The fellowship recklessly hurried over the vertigo-inducing bridge. She knew what was coming. Gandalf paused in the middle of the span. "Gandalf!" She cried from her place at the end of the bridge. He turned. She was abruptly very sad to say goodbye, even though she knew he was coming back. "The end, my friend! May your teeth never be replaced by freshly ironed wool socks."

He was about to answer but was quickly distracted by the Balrog (How does one NOT get distracted by a Balrog?). He held his staff high and a brilliant, white light shone into the opposing orange glow. She shivered, palms sweating and mouth dry. The Balrog came forth. It was a massive creature; a great 40 foot man-beast with a mane of flame. It's wings were coiled and quivering and it's eyes like burning coals. In one claw it held a blade, in the other a great whip of fire. She was, oddly, reminded of the burning heather fields that the farmers had to set alight to renew the soil. The creature burned and smouldered and all could tell that it's spirit was black and it's heart blacker.

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" Yelled Frodo, alarmed as they all were. The light radiating from the staff blazed, illuminating the entire bridge and the surroundings. She squinted.

"I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun." The Balrog placed one foot on the bridge of drew up to full height, wings spread wall-to-wall. Gandalf was a tiny figure, balanced on the narrow bridge. "Go back to the shadow." The Balrog struck down with the flaming sword. Gandalf blocked it with Glamdring. A ringing clash and the Balrog's sword shattered into molten fragments.

"You shall not pass!" He boomed and Elizabeth was ludicrously reminded of the Youtube remix. The Balrog put the other foot on the bridge. Aragorn and Boromir were ready with their swords drawn. The beast brandished the whip, lashing it about. _Compensating for something, are we? _

Gandalf cried aloud as he summoned his last reserve of strength. He thumped the bridge with the staff. A blinding sheet of white flame sprung up and the staff shattered. The Balrog stopped, unsure of what to do. Elizabeth held her breath. As it stepped forward, the poor bridge collapsed underneath it. It dropped away into the gulf. For a moment, the great creature remained poised in the air, then it plunges down into the abyss. The relief was palpable for all except her.

Gandalf remained, trembling on the lip of the broken bridge. The Balrog fell and lashed out with it's whip. The thongs of the whip lashed and curl around Gandalf's ankle, dragging him over the brink.

_This isn't my fault. Not my fault. _She tried to reassure herself but her heart was already aching from the loss. _Why am I being so silly? He's coming back. _His hand gripped the edge, hauling himself up long enough to command, "Fly, you fools!"

"Gandalf!" Screamed Frodo and was restrained by Boromir. Gandalf relinquished his hold and fell away, following the Balrog into the ostensibly bottomless pit. "No!" Frodo's grief was evident. Aragorn stared at the bridge in disbelief, and they all were unable to move for a few moments. Elizabeth was shocked by her own reaction. She had never been particularly emotional, never crying at tragic stories or weeping with joy at beautiful poetry. Nevertheless, there she was; a tear making it's slow descent down her right cheek. She scrubbed at it, viciously.

Arrows started flying by once again. Miraculously, no one was grazed or shot. She probably would have stayed where she was a lot longer if Legolas hadn't tugged her in the correct direction and, for once, she didn't pull away. They sped up the stairs, through the arch and into the light.

The fellowship, minus one, tumbled out of the great Eastern Gate and onto the grassy, sunbathed hillside of Dimroll Dale. Sam sat on the ground, bowed his head to his hands and began to weep. Merry did his best to console Pippin, who lay on the ground, sobbing. Boromir tried to restrain Gimli as he vented out his rage and sorrow. Legolas wore an expression of shock and disbelief. Elizabeth checked her face for any tears that had escaped her attention. Aragorn stood a distance from the others, re-sheathing his sword. "We cannot stay here." He said. "Legolas, get them up."

"Aragorn! Shut up!" Snapped Elizabeth, feeling bitchy and cross.

He looked at her and spoke coldly, "I am aware Gandalf's death has shaken us all, but if you can't hold your tongue then you will be carried to Lothlorien on my back like an infant."

"I want to roll you into a ball and throw you off a cliff." She mumbled, not liking the idea of losing her dignity and ego in one day.

"Can we not give them a second to make there peace?" Growled Boromir.

"By the time the moon appears, these hills will be teeming with Orcs. The Woods of Lothlorien are to be our resting place. Come, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, get them up."

Elizabeth kicked a strand of grass that was looking at her funny. "I will cut off his face and give it to Grandma as a souvenir."


	19. Of Submarines and Lilies

**Chapter Nineteen: Of Submarines and Lilies**

"_**Why do you build me up, Buttercup, baby,  
>Just to let me down and mess me around,<br>And then worst of all you never call, baby,  
>When you say you will but I love you still,<br>I need you more than anyone, darling,  
>You know that I have from the start,<br>So build me up, Buttercup, don't break my heart"  
>- The Foundations, Build Me Up Buttercup.<strong>_

"This is most undignified." She sniffed.

"I warned you and you chose not to listen." Said Aragorn. She was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, or, as she liked to call it, in a fireman's lift. Having disregarded previous cautions, she continued to talk. And sing. And interpretive dance. Aragorn wanted to make sure that didn't happen again. She was still very much upset about Gandalf and, as much as she tried to bury the ache under layers of small talk, everybody could tell.

"So...Boromir." She said, conversationally. "You're a person, right?"

"Yes." Said Boromir. He really couldn't be certain about where this was going. He walked behind Aragorn and had to endure Elizabeth's moody scowl and, on several occasions, tell her to stop clawing at Aragon's back because it would not make him put her down.

"So you have a birthday."

"Yes."

"When would that be?"

He glanced at her suspiciously. "It is 23rd of January. Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. Or, rather, she tried to. Upside down shrugs are hard to execute. "No reason. So that makes you... how old?"

_Why the hell am I even asking this? According to the numerous Fanfiction's I read many years ago, Boromir is about thirty or so. I mean, look at him-  
><em>  
>"I am forty years of age." <em>Say what!<br>_  
><em>Is he serious? <em>"Are you serious?" She asked, startled.

He raised his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because... Because..." She stuttered, unable to come up with an acceptable answer. She decided finally on mumbling, "You must moisturise..." They walked a few more paces, Boromir becoming increasingly amused at the way she was being carried. Amused until the singing started, anyway.

"In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea, and he told us of his life, in the land of submarines. So we sailed on to the sun, 'till we found the sea green, and we lived beneath the waves, in our yellow submarine." She serenaded the clouds and belted out, "WE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE! A YELLOW SUBMARINE, A YELLOW SUBMARINE! WE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE-"

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin conversed at the back of the line. "Pip?"

"What?"

"What's a sob-marine?"

"I don't know. Should we ask her?"

"No. Better not. She might eat us."

"WE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMA-" Then, with an indignant yelp on her part, Boromir clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her obnoxious singing. However, that plan all went to pot when she licked his palm. His eyes widened in surprise and he removed his hand.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" He asked, dryly.

"Yes." She nodded vigorously. "Aragorn, _please_can you put me down? I promise not to do anything too stupid."

"You are in luck, because we are nearing the borders of Lothlorien." Aragorn lowered to the ground. Her face was flushed pink from the involuntary head-rush and she swayed a little. She squinted and stumbled in the fading light. In the distance, the shimmer of a large forest could be seen.

"On second thought, let's not go to Lothlorien, it's a silly place." She said. _Do I _really _want to meet Galadriel? The Elf who can hear your thoughts? Sure, she's a good, generous person- er, Elf, but still. _They walked in silence until they reached the edge of the forest. The ground was strewn with yellow flowers, above was a roof of golden leaves held up by silver pillars, the trunks of huge, grey trees. It smelled like the end of summer.

"Stay close, young hobbits. They say a sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power." Said Gimli, glancing around the forest, nervously. "All look upon her fall under her spell.. And are never seen again!" _I think that was Gimli's idea of being dramatic. _He snorted. "Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of hawk and the ears of a fox- Oh." The fellowship were surrounded by armed Elves, deadly arrows aimed at their head.

"Should have gone to Specsavers." Muttered Elizabeth.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." _So THIS is Haldir. So far, I'm not liking him a great deal. _The Elf in question was looking at Gimli with clear disdain.

"_Haldir of Lorien, we come here for your help. We need your protection._" Said Aragorn, no real sense of urgency in his voice, but the tone was gently commanding.

"Aragorn! These woods are perilous. We should go back." Hissed Gimli. _Haldir's eyebrows look like they've been stuck on. Perhaps his real ones were ashamed to be part of his face and fell off. Should ask him? Nah, by the look he's giving Gimli, I REALLY wouldn't want to cross him._

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." He gave Elizabeth a curious look, then settled his gaze on Frodo. "Come, she is waiting."

Haldir led them onto a grassy hill top. The fellowship looked with wonderment at the vista spread before them. Several miles to the south, a large hill rose out of the woods. Upon it grew mighty Mallorn trees, taller than any others. Nestled high in the crown was a beautiful city that took her breath away. It shone in the low rays of the late afternoon sun, green, gold and silver. To the east of the city, the forest of Lorien ran down the pale glitter of the Anduin, the great river. Beyond that, the land was flat and empty, formless and vague, until far away it rose again like a dark wall. The sun that gleamed on Lothlorien had not power to enlighten the shadows which lay beyond.

As the evening set in, they stood with Haldir on one of the great trees. "_Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion._" **(Well met, Legolas, son of Thranduil.) **Elizabeth was still in partial shock from the beauty of the forest. _I wish we had woods like these back home. Maybe then more people would start caring for the environment._

"_Govannas vin gwennen, Haldir o Lorien." _**(Our fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lorien.) **Replied Legolas, smiling slightly. _Psh, Legolas showing off his politeness. I don't know what the hell he just said but it sounded polite._

"A Aragorn in Dunedain istannen le ammen."

**(And Aragorn of the Dunedain, you are know to us.) **Haldir stopped before Aragorn. She sighed, a tiny exhalation of air due to boredom and fatigue, but most of the surrounding elves threw a glare in her direction. _Woah, these guys need to take a break. Santa must be going crazy looking for them._

"Haldir." Aragorn stated.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can all understand!" Snapped Gimli. Elizabeth face-palmed. _This is where someone who doesn't go here should say, "I just wish we could all get along like we did in middle school. __I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy..."_

Haldir interrupted her thought process. "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days."

"And do you know what this Dwarf says to this? _Ishkaqwi ai durugnul! _**(I spit upon your grave!)**"

"That was not so courteous." Scolded Aragorn. Haldir walked up to and stopped in front of Frodo. Elizabeth felt funny. Not funny ha-ha, sort of jittery, like bluebirds had congregated in her stomach to take tea. A feeling she hardly ever got; nerves. She couldn't say she particularly cared for it. The edges of her mind resisted a presence, something probing at the corners of her consciousness. She shook her head.

"You bring great evil with you. You can go no further." _Well, isn't he just a bucket of cupcakes. _Aragorn began to quietly argue with Haldir, attempting to get him to let the fellowship in Lothlorien.

_Elizabeth..._

Whoa!

She jumped at the sound of a different voice in her head and glanced around suspiciously.

_Do not be afraid, child. You are in my domain. _The voice was gentle, but strong. A steel lily. _We shall talk later. _And the presence was gone. The fluttering in her stomach was still there but the tickling at the edge of her mind had vanished.

Haldir and Aragorn stopped arguing, coming to some sort of compromise or conclusion. "You will follow me." Said Haldir. He led them through a set of paths until they were overlooking Caras Galadhon, which Haldir conveniently announced, presumably for the fellowship's benefit. "Caras Galadhon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

She unconsciously leaned against Boromir, who supported her weight. She tried to slip away from him smoothly when she realized what she was doing. It wasn't so smooth. She tripped over her own feet like a cat with its feet tied together and an awkward silence was inevitable. She averted her eyes and carried on walking. _Why did I do that? There's nothing worse than getting attached to someone and then them getting shot full of arrows. I hate it when people do that. BOROMIR! WHY MUST YOU BE SO MUSCULAR!_

They walked up a winding staircase amongst the trees, towards the grand court of Galadriel and Celeborn. At the very top, they stood onto a wide fleet filled with a soft light. The walls were green and silver, the roof gold and in its midst was the trunk of the Mallorn tree, now tapering towards its crown. With a glow issuing forth from the them, the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien descend to meet their guests, hand in hand. Elizabeth felt very grubby as she inspected her ragged fingernails (caked with dirt) and smoothed her shirt the best she could (also rather dirty).

Celeborn stepped forwards. His hair was long and silvery, his face grave and beautiful with no sign of age upon it. Next to him was Galadriel. She seemed untouched by time, with hair of deep gold and her unsurpassed beauty. Her eyes were the only indication that she was not in her youth. They weren't old exactly, but they were wise. So much knowledge and insight was reflected in her eyes.

"Nine there are, yet ten there were set from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him." He looked to Aragorn.

Galadriel spoke gently, the same steel-lily voice Elizabeth had heard in her mind. "He has fallen into shadow." Elizabeth bowed her head in the memory of Gandalf. "The Quest stands upon the edge of knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true."

Wise, blue eyes met honey-brown ones and Galadriel and Elizabeth held the gaze levelly. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil." Elizabeth broke eye contact and looked down at her feet.


	20. Of Reflections and Oceans

**Chapter Twenty: Of Reflections and Oceans**

"_**I hope I meet someone tonight,  
>Who'll make my heart beat fast,<br>A handsome man with laughing eyes,  
>Who smiles as he walks past."<br>- Celtic Woman, At The Ceili.**_

They were all escorted to a pavilion set among the trees near the fountain. Elizabeth was still confused, questions floating aimlessly around in the back of her mind. She begged them to form an orderly queue, but they squabbled and just as one pushed itself to the front another would take its place. _Galadriel said we would talk later... what about? Why? What if she's found a way for me to go back home? _She paused when she thought about the latter question. _Or, more importantly, do I want to go back? _  
><em><br>_The response shocked her. _No, _she considered, _I don't. _She flopped down on one of the soft couches that had been laid out for them, too preoccupied to realize she almost sat on Pippin. Shame spiked her gut when she pictured her grandmothers face. Eyes, so like her own, stared out from a kind, calm face. She was smiling, as she always did, like Elizabeth was her favourite person in the world. _Why is it so easy for me to leave her? _She wondered, miserably.

Elves left food and wine for them. Mournful singing drifted down from the trees above. "A lament for Gandalf..." Said Legolas, sadly.

"What do they say about him?"

"I have not the heart to tell you, for the grief is still too near." He said. She sighed deeply.

"Pip?" Whispered Merry, eyeing Elizabeth with wariness.

"What?" replied Pippin.

"I think Elizabeth is upset."

"How do you know?" Asked Pip, puzzled. He had never seen her from completely crazy to happy and mellow but sad? Never.

Merry pointed out, "Well, look at her!"

The aforementioned woman was sitting with her head in her hands and, when asked if she would like some sweet bread by Gimli, she answered with, "Moo."

She watched Aragorn approach Boromir. _Do I want to stay because of him? _She pondered that for a moment, a breeze lifting her split-ended hair away from her neck. _Maybe. Hold on, when did I start having FEELINGS about him? When did that happen?_

"Take some rest, borders are well protected." Said Aragorn. Moonlight painted the glen silver, highlighting the glint of tears on Boromir's cheek. Her heart jolted and she raised her eyebrows at no one in particular. _Why? Why now? Why him, of all people? _She quenched her urge to go and hug the senses out of him by finding a Boromir substitute. Namely, Legolas. "Legolas." She said pleasantly.

"Yes? If you only wish to bother me, then please don't waste your time." He said, tiredly.

"I need a favour."

"Oh?"

"Give me a hug."

He did a very flamboyant double-take. "Pardon?"

Her cheeks coloured. "Give me a hug?" Without waiting for a reply, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. He was too stunned to do anything else but to hug back. She saw Boromir and Aragorn over his shoulder and faintly heard them talking. Boromir had wiped the remnants of tears away. Her chest tightened and she pulled away from the Elf, wandering away into the trees without explanation or justification.

* * *

><p>"I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor, and she said to me, "Even now, there is hope left, but I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." Boromir looked at Aragorn in despair, grey eyes filled with sorrow. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing and our... our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it, I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze... have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"<p>

"I have seen the White City long ago." Aragorn provided.

Boromir felt Aragorn's love for Minas Tirith and took heart, "One day our paths will lead us there and the tower guards shall take up the call, 'the Lords of Gondor have returned'." He smiled radiantly, imagining what could be.

"And what of Elizabeth?" Questioned Aragorn, abruptly.

The other man blinked. "What?"

Aragorn smiled thinly. "Do you think I don't see the way you two gravitate towards each other? The way she comes and talks to you, and you to her?"

Boromir blinked a second time. "In all due respect, I wish not to talk about it. The grief is clouding my judgement."

"You know a relationship between the two of you could never happen." Spoke Aragorn.

His nostrils flared. "You are in treacherous territory, Aragorn. Step carefully."

"She is but twenty five. Almost half your age. No status in society. Your father would never approve such a courtship."

"Leave me, please." Said Boromir, coldly. He averted his gaze and chose to glare angrily at the nearest tree.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth's bittersweet mood continued while she walked. The moon was high and bright, surrounded by a star-dappled sky. The night was cool, but not unpleasantly so. <em>Why do I have to feel stuff I don't want to? I'm a grown woman, not some hormone-drunk teenager. I may act like a child sometimes, but I'm not as stupid and petty as my sense of humour is. <em>

"Beautiful, are they not?" An elegant voice said, coming from behind. She spun, startled out of her internal conflict. The Lady Galadriel stood in a white dress, glowing under the rapture of the moon.

"I'm, er, sorry?" She said, unsure if she was initiating conversation or simply making small talk as she was passing. _Do Elves even make small talk? Because they live for ages, is it more like long talk?_

"The stars, they are beautiful." She semi-repeated, taking her eyes from the sky and looked at Elizabeth, unwavering.

"Yes, they are. The moon, too." She commented.

_You have much grief, do you wish to speak with me? _Galadriel's voice echoed in her head and Elizabeth jumped for the second time. She reasoned with herself, deliberating the offer.

_What if she doesn't understand? _As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt silly, chiding herself. She chanced a look into the Lady's eyes. They were blue. Very blue. Ocean eyes. Not because of the colour, but because they were so deep. There were whole lifetimes in those eyes. Galadriel seemed to sense her answer before it was spoken. With a slight smile, the Lady beckoned for Elizabeth to follow. Galadriel's feet made no sound on the woodland floor and although Elizabeth hardly had the footing of an elephant, it was difficult not to make any noise, especially when sporting worn, leather boots.

She led her back the way Elizabeth had come, glimpsing some of the fellowship through the trees. Eventually, they stopped at a place that was somewhat familiar to Elizabeth, at least from fiction. It was a glade. Upon a low, stone pedestal, carved like a branching tree, sat a shallow, silver basin. Ivy crept its way up the surrounding tree roots. Elizabeth's tongue suddenly felt thick and her mouth dry. "What troubles you?" Asked the Lady, submerging a silver jug into a pool of water.

Elizabeth swallowed. "Um, well, the thing is I am, um, disturbed by the fact that I don't want to go, er, home." She inwardly cringed. _Smooth, Lizzie, really smooth._

The Lady poured the water from the jug into the basin. When the last drop was emptied, she looked straight into Elizabeth's eyes, probing deep within. Elizabeth shied away, unwilling for the contents of her soul to become visible to the Lady. There was that strange, tickling sensation at the back of her mind again. She resisted at first, but Galadriel's power to see what does not want to be seen was too great. Her heart was awash with suppressed emotions and desires, the ones that had wanted to stay hidden for a reason.

"Lost." Murmured Galadriel. "You are so lost, little one. There is a heart of caged tears under the fickle and the folly. Come," She invited. "Won't you look into the mirror?" Elizabeth knew better than to ask what she would see, but she looked at the silver basin with apprehension, understanding that she shouldn't refuse an opportunity such as this, yet not quite bringing herself to peer over the edge.

She took slow, deliberate steps up to the pedestal and focused her attention on the glossy surface. The night sky was reflected on the water. Liquid smoke appeared to swirl under the surface and the image changed.  
><em><br>Her grandmother, hunched over the morning paper, as she usually did. The toast in front of her was half cold and smothered with butter, a single bite taken out of it before her attention waned and she decided to get on with her day, rather than spend valuable minutes on trivial things such as breakfast. It was the same kitchen that had been her haven for years, the same old tin kettle on the hob and the same book shelf that held classics like 'Jane Eyre' and 'the Zombie Survival Guide'. The normality of it all was surreal._

Grandma Sparrow got up, wincing as her joints ached, something that would get worse when winter came around, and pottered off to water the plants on the windowsill. The leaves of sorrel that never seemed to die, no matter how neglected or unattended. It was all so... unchanged, like Elizabeth had never decided to hatch a plan against the neighbour boy, had never driven off and had never ended up miles from Bree with her pepper spray. Grandma hummed to herself, something that sounded oddly similar to Jingle Bells, despite the fact that it wasn't anywhere near Christmas.

The image of her kitchen swirled and morphed into something else. Elizabeth blinked and was uncertain about what she just witnessed. She concentrated on the new images.

_A pair of hands almost clasped, fingertips excruciatingly close. The hand of the first was clearly a woman's hand. It was pale, too big to be called dainty yet too small to be called clumsy. The fingernails were long and covered in dirt and it lay palm up, as if waiting for another to clasp it tightly. The other was a man's hand, calloused and rough. It was palm down, fingers searching for another to hold. Leaves were scattered all around the two, and moss coated the forest floor. When looking upon those hands, she felt as if she was looking out onto the long red sea of eternity. Snarls echoed but the sound was distant, an underwater reverberation. The picture the image painted was monstrously serene._

Elizabeth gasped and tore her eyes away from the mirror and with an exclamation of, "Holy gurgle!", she fell backwards. Galadriel stood as still as a statue, untouched by her horror. Elizabeth lay there for a moment, a rag roll trodden in the mud, then she composed herself and rose.

"I have seen also what you saw, Lost One. Yet I cannot tell you all that lies in waiting for you."

"Thank you." Elizabeth gulped down the fresh, woodland air like it was the first breath of spring. It was so different from the suffocating feel of the mirror. "I'm still not completely sure of what's going on but I really appreciate you reaching out to me. Thank you, Lady." She did her best to curtsey, wanting to express her gratitude.

Galadriel's lips curved upwards in a light smile. "Time carries away what you love, Lost One, you must make your choice unaided and remember that everyone is fighting their own battles, too." The Lady glided off, white dress trailing on the ground but didn't seem to stain nor tarnish.

_Lost One... I have been called that before. _Elizabeth was left bewildered, unsure of the road ahead. She shook her head a few times. She began to walk back to the pavilion, not even trying to disguise the crunch of branches under foot. Her mood was significantly less teenage-defiance and more adult-confusion. She wasn't sure which was worse.


	21. Of Rivers and Mornings

****Chapter Twenty One: Of Rivers and Mornings ****

**"_**Let's waste time chasing cars,  
>Around our heads,<br>I need your grace,  
>To remind me to find my own."<br>- Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars. **_**

****Elizabeth twiddled her thumbs, trying desperately to sleep. The mirror vision had shocked her deeply. She had wandered back from the glade a little dazed and met Frodo, who was ostensibly out for a night-time stroll. _("Frodo!" She exclaimed, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't see him until she was half on top of the poor hobbit. "It feels like hours since we last saw each other." She commented._

_His brow puckered, "It_

_hasbeen hours since we last saw each other."_

_"Oh.")_

****"Nnnmmmm!" She groaned, rolling over and pressing the pillow to her face. She inhaled the scent of it. It was the aroma of outside, of summer and the forest. She cracked her knuckles. "Well, it's obvious I'm not getting any sleep tonight." She muttered, swinging her legs off of the couch, she sat on the edge, rubbing her eyes._ Why have things been so iffy lately? _She wondered. The moon was long past its apex in the sky and the stars were starting to fade. Everyone around her was asleep, even Legolas although he had his eyes open. It was eerily quiet, the occasional twitter of a bird or the rustle of the wind in the trees was the only indicator that there was life still to be found. She deliberately chose not to look at Boromir who had his head turned slightly to her. She sat on the edge for a while, contemplating the Mirror Vision, desperately trying to make some kind of sense out of it. Unfortunately, her head hit the pillow long before anything vaguely rational could spring to mind.

* * *

><p>The soft, gentle tones of birdsong roused her from sleep. The morning was raw and pink, so she decided it must be the sunrise. Last night's sleep was deep and dreamless and her rather sour mood had dissipated overnight. She had slept in her travelling clothes, which her covered in dirt, torn and didn't smell too great either. Her rucksack was still in fairly good condition, despite all the scrapes and batterings it had received. She lay still for a moment, watching the sky and listening to the noise she had become accustomed to; Gimli's quiet snoring, Aragorn's soft footsteps as he did whatever rangers do this early in the morning, and the steady breathing of those around her.<p>

"Morning, Merry." Remarked Pippin and by his voice, she could tell he had only just woken.

"Morning, Pippin." Replied Merry. "Gimli snores." Elizabeth stifled a giggle and closed her eyes again.

"Don't I know it!" Exclaimed Pippin. "And Elizabeth says the oddest things in her sleep!"_ Eh? Oh dear._

"Indeed. I think I heard her say 'cows have underground parties!" _Hey! It's a very popular conspiracy! _She mentally defended herself. The remainders of sleep ebbed away which, surprisingly, left her a thrumming bow string for the day ahead. She sat up and observed her surroundings. The pavilion looked different in the dawn, and she soon discovered that many things looked different in sunrise because she so rarely up that early.

_Why am I awake this early? What the hell do people even _do_? Hmm, I suppose I'd better say good morning. _She cleared her throat. "Good morning, one and all!" She said, clenching her hands over her head like a prizefighter, celebrating her victory over sleep.

Aragorn looked over at her from where he stood. "I take it you slept well?"

She nodded. "Yeah, best night's sleep I've had in ages."

He found this to be an acceptable answer, so she continued, "What's on the agenda for today?" She sat on the edge of the bed, much like she had done before she fell asleep.

"I must meet with the Lord and Lady to discuss the days ahead. You can roam as you please, but," He said, "do your best not to get into any kind of trouble."

She grinned. "Of course not." His eye were doubtful but he let the issue drop, walking away on a beaten path towards the centre of Caras Galadhon. She looked around. Everybody else was asleep, as far as she could tell. Legolas wasn't there.

_He's probably prancing about doing whatever Mirkwood Elves do. _She snickered at the thought of Legolas prancing. Merry and Pippin must have slipped off without her noticing because she couldn't hear the everyday noise of them eating/singing/generally having fun.

_Although, I suppose they won't be having much fun. _Her mind supplied. _What with Gandalf and all. _She felt better about losing Gandalf. She knew he would be reborn and that she would probably be around to see it. Most of the others were still disheartened, unwilling to let go of the past and concentrate on the quest ahead.

A pile of fabric to her right, smelling faintly of rich earth, turned out to be clothes. She looked at them suspiciously, doubtful if they were for her or just left there by coincidence. Shrugging and inferring that Elves didn't leave clothes willy-nilly all over the place at random, she took them and began to search for a place to change. She didn't have to search far. There was a nice thicket that could conceal her nicely. The leggings had clearly previously belonged to a man, so she had to roll them up several times. The shirt was a little big as well but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She dropped her old clothes back at the pavilion. Frodo, Sam and Gimli were now awake and by the look in their eyes, she would say that they were thinking about food. As if to prove her assumption correct, Gimli's stomach rumbled, putting the thunder claps on Caradhras to shame. "Morning." She greeted them, chucking her clothes onto one of the couches.

"Good morning." Said Gimli, yawning. Sam looked up and smiled half-heartedly. Frodo didn't acknowledge her. She didn't take it personally because, in all fairness, she hadn't really talked to him much during this quest. "Where's Aragorn?" Asked Gimli, drawing back her gaze.

"He went to talk to the Lord and Lady." She answered. "And I am going to have a bath." She skipped off, confident that the day ahead would be a good one. If she avoided Boromir and didn't let herself feel anything she didn't want to. She followed a path opposite the one Aragorn had taken, profoundly hoping that there would be heated water and scented soap.

The forest was as beautiful in the sun as it was in the moon. The sky still had a pink tinge to it and the odd rustle of leaves indicated the life that thrived in the undergrowth.

_Wow, I actually have a day that doesn't include walking long distances. _She thought, _Ah, the things I will do... _She was now walking adjacent to a river. She followed it for a while, unnerved by all how quiet everything was. She looked left, then looked right. No one was around.

She shrugged and jumped in the river. The water was chilly, hardly touched by the sun, but it was still clean running water. She grinned to herself, dismissive about the fact that she leaped into a river with new clothes on. The water was deep, her feet barely brushing the bottom. She took her hair out from the elastic band that was now stretched with age and tossed it onto the riverbank. She was submerged up to her chin, loose hair floating around her like seaweed.

_Dear River, thank you for making me feel like a Mermaid. _She gave an experimental kick and was propelled backwards. The dirt clung to her skin and fingernails, but she scrubbed at herself, revealing skin that she previously thought a bit paler. She rubbed her back and felt a scar running along one shoulder blade. She gave up on washing and just soaked in the water.

Closing her eyes, she let the sunlight visible through the trees warm her face and arms. This bliss, however, was short lived because when she finally opened her eyes, she was greeted with the sight of four elves staring, open-mouthed, at her. Feeling sure-footed, she waved cheerily at them, "Hi! What a delightful river this is! It doesn't smell like people whatsoever." These elves were far too shocked at seeing a human woman bathing in a river with clothes on to generate a response. She tried again. "My birthday was last year. My party involved a cockatoo, a rainbow sports bra and a biker gang conga line. How was your last birthday?"

An elf with long silvery hair merely looked amused. He said, "Suilaid, Nessa Er... Man carel le?"**** (Hello, Young One... What are you doing?)****

_Bloody hell, not this situation again. _"...Yes?" She said.

"Elizabeth?" She turned her head at the horribly familiar voice.

"Ah, Legolas! How are you this fine morning?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow, unsure if human women usually bathed with clothes on. "I am perfectly well, rest assure." He said. "What are you doing in the river?"

She gave him an odd stare and swam to the bank, cracking her joints as she did so. "Oh, you know, just hunting elephants."

"You are aware that there is a bath house around the corner?"

She glared. "I see you've returned to your normal state of arrogance."

"And I see you have not wavered in your persistent quest to irritate me." He sighed and then spoke rapidly to the group of Elves. They dissipated, some chuckling quietly.

She watched with vague interest and then asked, "What did they say?"

Legolas crouched on the river bank. Elizabeth splashed his ankles with water. He stood back up. "They simply wanted to know what you were doing. You are in a river wearing clothes."

She nodded.

_The return of the label maker! _"I am. Well observed, young Greenfly."

"It's Greenleaf." He muttered.

She continued, "And anyway, I'm swimming in a river. I no longer have qualms about the situation."


	22. Of Swords and Moods

**Chapter Twenty Two: Of Swords and Moods**

_**"May it be an evening star,  
>Shines down upon you,<br>May it be when darkness falls,  
>Your heart will be true,<br>You walk a lonely road,  
>Oh! How far you are from home,"<strong>_

_**- Enya, May It Be**_

She climbed out of the river, greatly enjoying that she didn't smell of sweat and had no dirt under her fingernails. Her clothes stuck to every angle of her body. She didn't care. The sun was up and it's warm rays were peaking shyly out from behind white clouds and tree branches. She stretched leisurely, like a cat awakening from a long days sleep and smiled. Hmm... What to do, what to do. She chewed her lip thoughtfully before decided on making her way back to the pavilion to see who was there.

She skipped there, because walking was far too mainstream. Upon reaching their make-shift camp, she heard Pippin talking in a cheerful tone, "...And that's when Elizabeth fell out a tree!" What? When did I fall out of a tree? It seems like the kind of thing I would do, but I have no recollection of this. She shrugged and Pippin continued, "Where is that funny girl, anyway?"

She chose that opportune moment to bounce into the clearing, saying, "Gimli's right over there, why?"

Gimli looked up and glared at her from under bushy eyebrows, but otherwise let it slide.

"Oh, hello, Elizabeth!" Greeted Merry, "Where have you been?"

"In a river." Merry nodded like this was completely normal. Of course, when you have been with Elizabeth for long enough, one starts to accept things like this as the norm.

"Elizabeth!" She whirled around to face the source of the new voice. Sam came running out, making her think twice about challenging to him to a 100 metre dash. She looked at him with surprise. He was red in the face and breathing heavily. "Boromir..you...said...sword..." He sat down on the ground and attempted to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I think you dropped some verbs on the way here." She said, awkwardly avoiding Sam's eyes at the name 'Boromir'. He took a gulp of air.

"Boromir is looking for you, he said that he wants to teach you how to use a sword."

She blanched, memories of the last time she had been allowed to handle potentially fatal objects rushing back. "Does no one recall the last time something like this was suggested?"

Gimli shuddered. Merry and Pippin stopped talking and slowly turned an fascinating shade of jade. Sam winced and Elizabeth rubbed her arm where a pale scar lay as a reminder of how she picked up a sword and dropped it on her own arm. It wasn't pretty. "Um, Boromir said to meet him here in a few minutes." Said Sam, understanding the gravity of the situation but unable to stop Boromir from running head first into disaster.

"Right. I see." She spoke sedately. Tucking her hair down the back of her damp shirt, she bolted.

Laughing wildly as the figures of Dwarves and Hobbits became smaller behind towering trees and eventually disappearing completely in a green haze. _In what universe is teaching me how to fight a good idea? _Her laughter dimmed for a moment. _Hold on. Must think logically for once. _She leaned against the vast trunk of a tree, tapping a finger on her chin. _I learn how to fight and I die by seriously maiming myself. _She didn't like that option.

_But what if I don't learn how to fight and I perish from Uruk-hai who want to kill Boromir? _She was liking the state of affairs a great deal less. _Hmm, maybe I learn how to fight and I defend Boromir from Ring-thirsty Uruk-hai? _She liked that option a lot more.

She thought of Moria and how she had hardly been any use and how the bone and flesh broke and bruised at the most careless of blows. It was not an experience she wished to relive. _These things can wait, I suppose. _She thought, uncertainly. The bitter truth was not so far away as she liked to think. She resolved to make up her mind the next day and avoid Boromir for the time being. In the present, she sighed and walked on.

The day went fairly quickly. She held her hands like a gun and snuck around the trees, listening to Pippin and Merry's attempt to find her. It was a game she introduced to them and they had caught on surprisingly quickly. There was much bumbling about when they eventually found her sitting on a low branch throwing various tree debris at them. She felt happy and carefree, something she rarely had time to feel properly in recent times. She slept easily and did not dream.

* * *

><p>She woke much as she had the day before; early and no bitter moods. She blinked and her eyes adjusted to the weak sunlight slanting through the trees. "Elizabeth!" <em>Oh, bloody hell. What is it?<em>

"Hmmm?" She said, sleep still clouding her mind.

"Elizabeth, get up."

"That's rude. I could be sleeping."

"But you are not. So please get up."

She rolled over and found herself face to face with Boromir. "What do you want?"

"In case you did not get the message yesterday, I am to teach you how to use the sword a little better." She closed her eyes again. "Elizabeth!"

"Itoeahy..."

Boromir blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's too early."

"You were up earlier than this yesterday."

"That was an anomaly."

He sighed, frustrated. "Stop-"

"-Hammertime!" She interrupted, smiling.

"What? Will you please stop-"

"-In the name of looooove!" She sang.

He growled, "Don't-"

"-stop beeeeelieeeving!" She cooed, fully aware of how much she was bothering him.

"I am going to come back in half an hour. I expect you to be dressed appropriately and in a better mood." Her eyes still closed, she listened to the sound of footsteps getting fainter and fainter until they were gone completely.

She sighed and opened her eyes . She still wasn't completely sure how she felt about him. There was a feeling more than friendship in her stomach but her mind was telling her otherwise. Telling her that it was hopeless. There were too many factors against them. He clearly didn't like her anyway. "Stupid, stupid Elizabeth." She said to herself, swinging herself out of bed all the same.

She dressed in the same clothes as the day before, not seeing any reason why she shouldn't rummaged through her rucksack for an elastic band for her hair. She didn't find one, but her hair was clean enough from her little swim so she left it down.

Half an hour later, as promised, Boromir emerged, frowning. Maybe she had put him a bad mood. He was holding two swords. One was his and the other was far too shiny to have ever been used. He handed the new one to her. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, generally curious.

"Because after what happened in the mines, I don't want you to be unprepared if it ever happens again."

"Oh." Her eyebrows were raised.

"Tell me what you know about fighting with a bladed weapon." He continued, ignorant to her surprise.

"Um, the pointy end is sharp."

"Yes." He agreed. "But there is more to it than that."

Her lesson was an hour long. The only thing that kept her going was the close proximity with Boromir. By the end of it, her arm hurt from the weight of the sword, despite it only being a practice one, she was swearing profusely and, to put the pudding in the puff so to speak, her pride had been shattered so many times it hardly existed any more.

The clang of swords echoed in Lothlorien and she concentrated hard. He had explained the correct stance, the proper way to hold it and several techniques to incapacitate her enemy. She shuddered at the thought of what that might do to actual flesh. Lapsing in her concentration for only a second, he pushed on her sword and she was forced to her knees yet again.

As she was trying to extract herself from her new intimate relationship with the ground, he spoke, "Once more and then you are dismissed."

A sudden bout of anger swelled inside her chest. _Who is he to tell me when I am dismissed? _"Look," She snapped, "I am trying my hardest and all you have done is criticise me!"

"It is necessary that you understand what you will be up against." He said.

"The least you could be is pleasant. I haven't even seen you smile."

"You will excuse me if there is nothing to smile about."

She snarled angrily, feeling her temper snap thread by thread. She hit him on the chest, not hard but it still smarted her hand due to his leather armour.

"Did you just... hit me?" He asked, eyes held amusement, which annoyed her.

"Um... No?" She said, uncertainly.

He shot her a withering stare. "It was a rhetorical question. Try to attack me again. With your sword."

"Fine." If looks could harm, his kidneys would have been liquefied.

She walked back a few paces, then sprinted. Her eyes were full of determination and her new found fortitude made her vision include only the sword in Boromir's hand. This was all well and good and she probably would have seen it through if she hadn't tripped a couple of paces in front of him.

She stumbled into Boromir, who caught her. Her cheeks were crimson with embarrassment. She felt his laughter. She froze for a moment, and then her arms automatically crept around his neck to steady herself. Her face was pressed against his throat and she dared not move. He was silent, unsure of what to do. She closed her eyes to stop the dizzying world, the glow of the sky, the birds in the trees. She wanted to be here with him, wrapped in her moment, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the beat of his heart, as steady and strong as the pulse of the ocean.

His senses were purely _her. _He could smell the scent of her hair and was acutely aware of how close she was. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Can I go?"

"Yes." He answered, turning away.

She ignored the lump in her throat and walked away, all the while thinking just how stupid she had been to think he was interested.


	23. Of Boats and Hair

**Chapter Twenty Three: Of Hair and Boats**

_**"Remember, when the gods all stutter on your precious name.  
>You have the gift of humour;<br>no one who meets you will frown for very long,  
>or ever be the same."<strong>_

_**- S. J. Tucker, In the House of Mama Dragon.**_

The time came when they had to leave Lothlorien. She had just been able to get used to getting up whenever she wanted and eating when it pleased her. She avoided Boromir as if he was the plague, the feeling of foreboding lingering in the air. Another thing that caught her interest was Aragorn. He had washed his hair. It was lovely. It actually moved independently from his head now.

As was custom for Elizabeth, she was half asleep when they were taken to meet with the Lord and Lady for the last time. Each member of the fellowship was gifted with a cloak. She was sure it would get muddy as soon as they left on the boats, but she accepted it gratefully and hoped for the best. "Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Galadriel moved down the line, presenting each of the fellowship with a gift of her choosing. "My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim. Worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." Legolas looked with wonder at the beautifully carved bow. _Compensating for something, much?_

Merry and Pippin unsheathed daggers she gave them. "These are the daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war. . Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage. And for you, Samwise Gamgee, Elven rope made of hithlain."

"Thank you, my lady. Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?" She smiled at him without responding.

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?"

"Nothing. Except to look upon the lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth." _Get your flirt on, Gimli! _Elizabeth mentally cheered him on. Galadriel laughed and Gimli began to turn away, then hesitantly turned back. "Actually, there was one thing. No, no, I couldn't. It's quite impossible. Stupid to ask…"

Eventually, she gave him three golden hairs from her head. _Anybody else think that's a LITTLE odd? Maybe he wants to make a wig out of it._

She gave Aragorn an Elfstone and Boromir received a golden belt. She smirked, disguising it with a stealthy cough. _Boromir likes belts? In gold? How fashionable. He needs to, like, totes go to Topshop with me! Urgh, even in my head that voice sounded horrible. _She shuddered.

At the end of the line stood Elizabeth. In all honesty, she didn't really expect a gift. The Lady had helped her enough. Yet here she was, Galadriel reaching out to touch her forehead. "The one who is lost." She smiled. "I have something you might find useful."

"Like rope?" Elizabeth said uncertainly.

Galadriel answered by pressing a small dagger into her palm and closing Elizabeth's hand around it. "We all have our paths in life to take. May the Valar have mercy. And, remember," She caught Elizabeth's eye. "We are all victims of our own actions. _Namárië_."

She opened her palm. It was more of a knife than a dagger. The blade was light and appeared to be polished and silver. A design of a water droplet or a tear on the handle. She pocketed it and raised her head to thank her, but she had left.

Legolas was loading supplies into a grey boat. Elizabeth made a game of unpacking what he had already put in and watched him get annoyed. He grew rather tired of the game, so he settled for sending her a half-hearted glare. He took out a piece of Lembas from a pack. Merry and Pippin were suddenly very interested.

"Lembas. Elvish waybread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."

Elizabeth looked around. "Who are you talking to?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Merry and Pippin. Who else?"

"You always seem to announce things to no one in particular. I've been wondering who you're talking to." Legolas shook his head and left. "What? What did I say?" She called after his retreating form.

"How many did you eat?" Asked Merry.

Pippin belched. "Four."

* * *

><p>She was stuck in boat with Legolas and Gimli. Perhaps you didn't grasp the seriousness of the situation. She was in a BOAT with <em>Legolas<em> and _Gimli_. While Legolas was controlling the oars, she was playing with his hair. He _really _didn't like that. She asked him if he had plaited his hair extra tightly so the river air didn't make it frizz. He didn't say anything, which she thought to be quite rude.

Gimli was muttering behind her. _All I'm hearing __is mutter, mutter, mutter. He probably can't think of anything else to say, so he's improvising. Everybody knows Gimli shouldn't improvise. _It was actually rather peaceful sailing down the Silverlode.

Elizabeth felt that she should spoil it. "Methinks it is time for a singsong." She said. Fortunately for her, Legolas had a paddle in his hand, so he couldn't grab her shoulders and shake her and beg her not to, as he so wished. His Elven ears were dreading the torture.

"Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase!" She chorused. "Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze. It means no worries for the rest of your days. It's our problem-freeeeeee philosophy. Hakuna Matata!"

"It's happening again..." Mumbled Sam, having experienced this in past. He had heard her singing this around Rivendell and he did not care for it.

_Something new! I can tell they're enjoying this. It's not every day they get to- Well, I suppose it kind of is. _Switching Disney films, she sang through 'A Whole New World', 'Under the Sea,' and 'A Girl Worth Fighting For'. Gimli may have started praying for it to stop at one point. Eventually, Aragorn swivelled round to glare at her.

_Someone's grumpy this morning... _She thought. Their boats passed into the great river Anduin. The three Elven boats carried them steadily southward, green trees giving way to brown and withered land. A flock of birds circled high above, black against the pale sky. Her eyes flicked momentarily to Aragorn, who was eyeing them with concern.

Gimli said, "Be watchful, young Hobbits and be wary of this land. It cannot be trusted." He stood up in the boat to say this, making the river vessel rock dangerously, very nearly tipping it up.

Elizabeth shook her head. _Doesn't he know not to stand up in a boat? I'll give him time. Maybe he merely forgot. Must be Galadriel's hair making him go funny in the head. _She went back to her musings and occasionally singing the odd tune, making Legolas regret his decision to sit directly in front of her.

The second time Gimli stood up to shout across to Merry and Pippin, she ground her teeth together. The third time, she shared a look with Pippin that clearly stated that this was going to go badly. By the sixth time this happened, she had had enough.

"Right!" She said sternly, standing to make herself taller than him. "GIMLI!" She shouted, waving her arms wildly to get her point across. "What are you doing? Everyone knows you don't stand up in a- Whoa!"

With their combined weight at the back end of the boat, it capsized. She didn't even fall gracefully, she fell with her arms flailing like she was trying to catch herself. The water was cleaner than expected. She kicked upwards, propelling herself to the surface, coughing. Merry and Pippin crying with laughter and Aragorn sighed in a way that she could almost hear him saying, "I knew it." She looked around for Gimli and found him treading water with a ridiculous doggy-paddle. The armour certainly didn't help his buoyancy. Legolas was also in the water, practically drowning because he was laughing so much.

"Shut up." She grumbled. Legolas put the boat to rights and Gimli demanded that Legolas handed over the paddle for a while. The Elf pushed himself up and into the boat nimbly and then pulled Elizabeth in after him. Together, they hauled Gimli in, who was cursing in Dwavish Probably quite explicitly. Needless to say, no one stood up in their boat ever again.

The boats drifted slowly through the steep, rocky gorge. Two enormous rock statues, towering like 300 foot pinnacles on either side of the river. Carved images of the Gondorian kings of old. They loomed over the boats with power and majesty. Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sight.

"The Argonath." Said Aragorn, quietly. She looked him. He was paddling at the stern and spoke almost to himself. Elizabeth, surprisingly, was strangely moved by the beauty of the silent sentinels. Aragorn continued, "Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin."

The fellowship stared in stunned silence as the current took them through a narrow gap between the statues' feet.

After a while, she spoke again, "Hey, Legolas? Can I call you Will?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, Will Turner? You know him?"

"I'm afraid I do not."

She _tsked. _"Shame. I thought you might suit his hair. Maybe you two could swap."

* * *

><p><strong>If you like this, please review! You give me life meeeeeeaning!<br>**


	24. Of Distractions and Honour

**Chapter Twenty Four: Of Distractions and Honour**

_**"For you, there'll be no crying,  
>For you, the sun will be shining,<br>'Cause I feel that when I'm with you  
>It's alright. I know it's right.<br>And the songbirds keep singing,**_

_**like they know the score,  
>And I love you, I love you, I love you,<br>Like never before."**_

_**- Eva Cassidy, Songbird.**_

Boromir was brooding. This was not something he often did. Brooding was an occupation of his brother. Faramir was always in library of Minas Tirith, brooding over this and that. Or, at least, Boromir assumed he was brooding. What other reason was there for him to be hunched over a book for hours at a time?

However, as Boromir paddled the boat slowly, he began to sense something was wrong with himself. He had admired the regal statues carved out of the mountain, proudly standing on each side of the Anduin, their left arms held aloft, palms facing outwards in a gesture of warning. They were stern of face and oddly exquisite.

Still, something was not settling right with him. He allowed his mind to drift back a few weeks, his body taking over the steady strokes of the oars. What was the source of this restlessness? He had felt this way ever since... Ever since he had tried to teach Elizabeth how to use the sword. He recalled the feel of her pressed against him, the smell of her hair.

_No, _He thought, realizing what he was doing. _No, I can't be distracted. Not now. Especially not by her. _It was the Ring. It had been calling to him more insistently, promising everything he could ever want. It whispered to him while he slept, saying that if he took it, Gondor would be spared, Elizabeth would be by his side. Everything would be perfect.

His conscious mind knew that the damn thing was wrong, but another part of him yearned for it, wanted to be powerful, wanted Elizabeth to be amazed by him.

He risked a look at her. He wondered when it had happened. His heart went out to her in a sickeningly cliché way that he and Faramir had laughed at when they caught the blacksmith's daughter writing poetry to the son of a noble. Elizabeth was laughing at the friendly bickering between Legolas and Gimli.

Her beauty did not blaze in fierce colours, he understood, it was muted; harder to recognise, but it was there. It was in her confidence, her disposition, in her courage. He thought of the women in Minas Tirith, with their powders and perfumes and curls that reached their impossibly tiny waists. She knew those things were peripheral to what was truly lovely. She didn't wear the mask so many other women do, the mask that they thought people would want to look at. She was simply herself.

"Boromir?" Piped up Pippin.

"Yes?" Answered Boromir.

"Do you love Elizabeth?" Boromir's head jerked up so fast it was a shock that he didn't contract whiplash.

"What makes you say that?" He asked carefully.

"Well," Said Merry, "You were looking at her just now, and you almost steered the boat into the riverbank."

Boromir managed to get the boat back on the correct route and ignored Pippin's questions of "Do you? It looks as if you do."

_What do I do? _He thought, numbly. _This can't continue. I wish to know what stirs her fire and chills her bones. I have to stop this._ He contemplated his feelings for a time, the rhythmic paddling helping to soothe his nerves. While in the boat slightly ahead, Elizabeth's sense of dread grew into a sense of inevitability.

* * *

><p>The fellowship reached the foot of Amon Hen, the Hill of sight. When they stopped on the beach of Parth Galen, Elizabeth was grateful for the chance to stretch her legs. Inside, she was scared. She knew far too well what was nearly here. Burying it deep within wasn't an option when it was virtually right in front of her. She couldn't help but notice that Boromir looked troubled, appearing to be fighting an internal conflict.<p>

_Must save Boromir. I have to. _She clutched the dagger from Galadriel tight in her palm, almost drawing blood. _If I didn't, you know, LIKE like him, would I still want to save him?_ The answer came to her instantly. _Of course I would. He is a brave honourable man and I... I like him. _She tried to bring up the memories of past boyfriends. There was only one; Henry. She remembered that it was summer and that he was quiet and had a lovely smile. She remembered her hair was long and tumbled down her back in waves and she went bare foot because it was too hot for shoes She was 19. She wore short shorts and didn't care that she was curvier than most girls because she actually ate food and had never been on a diet in her life. She didn't love Henry and she knew he didn't love her, but they shared sweet kisses and a freedom that only comes with summer.

_It's ridiculous to think of Boromir in that way. He clearly doesn't like me, I just annoy him like I do everybody else. _A stab of self-pity took her by surprise. _And anyway, the kind of love I want doesn't even exist outside of fairytales. _

"We cross the lake at nightfall." Aragorn said. "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh, yes? It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" Said Gimli. Pippin and Elizabeth looked up, alarmed. "Festering, stinking marshlands far as the eye can see."

**"**That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

"Recover my…?" Gimli growled.

_Whoa. Wait. One. Minute. _She glanced around their camp. "Shit!" She exclaimed and leapt to her feet. Boromir was gone.

She ran. As fast as her feet would move, she ran. She could hear her name being shouted by Aragorn but footsteps followed. She chose a direction at random. "Bollocks, fuck, " She cursed, uttering every bad word she knew, condemning herself to a lifetime of pain for being such an abominable idiot.

She tore through the trees, leaves crunching under foot and heart thumping heavily in her chest. She stopped, breathing hard and listening for the tell tale sound of talking. The air was very still and it was distrustfully silent except for her own ragged breathing and pounding heart.

_There! _She thought triumphantly, as Boromir's voice echoed faintly through the trees. "... I ask only for the strength to defend my people! If you would but lend me the Ring-"

"No!" Cried Frodo.

She charged towards the source of the talking, adrenaline surging and she felt lighter than air. It was Surreal. Dreamlike. The voices were closer. "Why do you recoil? I am no thief."

"You are not yourself."

"No, no, no!" She yelled, jumping over a log, barely covering the height needed.

"What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the end! You fool!" Boromir shouted. She knew where they were now. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance! It could have been mine. It should be mine! Give it to me!"

Emotion swelled in her chest, tightening and releasing. Moisture welled in the corners of her eyes. She ran. There were more outcries and more yells punched the air. "I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death, and to the death of us all! Curse you! Curse you and all the Halflings!"

She burst into the small clearing, out of breath and cheeks carnation pink. Boromir was on the ground, disorientated. "Frodo?" He called. "What have I done? Please, Frodo!"

"Boromir!" Elizabeth said, running over to him. His eyes were still misty. She put her hands on his shoulders and shook, hitting his leather-clad shoulders. "Boromir!" She almost couldn't prevent the heart-wrenching hysterical sob that nearly burst from her lips, but she stopped. The madness of the Ring left him and he lay dazed on the ground.

"Elizabeth?" He whispered, like he couldn't bear to speak.

"Boromir, we have to go. I know that there are Orcs on the way and, and..." She trailed off. Then hugged him fiercely.

He was taken aback, but after the initial surprise his arms went around her and he held her. She rested a cheek against the warm juncture between his neck and his shoulder. She heard the echo of his pulse and the scent of him was sweat and mint and leather.

Her mind was screaming at her to run and hide from the Uruk-hai that were most likely prowling the forest, but she couldn't bear to rip herself away. He hesitantly slid his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face. His eyes were steady and grey and full of faith. She nearly broke down and told him what was to come.

Their gazes caught and locked. She thought of the wave that seemed to catch her whenever she was near him, how she felt herself drawn over and under, pulled to him by forces that appeared beyond her control. It felt natural, as right as breathing, to lift her head, to meet her lips with his.

And that's where they have their first kiss. It is the most improbable time they could have thought of and it's in the middle of a foreign land. It's full of salty skin and chapped lips but underneath that, she could feel all the pent up emotion. All the frustration, and the hunger and longing. She felt his soft exhalation against her mouth; relief, as if a great weight had been taken from him. His hand rose to cup her face. Her eyes fluttered shut.

They parted. "We shouldn't be doing this." He whispered. "It is not proper-"

He was cut off my Elizabeth kissing him again. Her chest felt as if it was full of glitter and helium. This time, he didn't pull away. Time seemed to slow and, in that moment, nothing mattered to her any more. It was just him and her.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. But it felt so right. So, so right. He broke away and brushed her hair to one side, over her shoulder, exposing the pale skin of her neck. He leaned close, breathing in her scent, listening to her heart and the quick, shallow breaths. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he planted a tender kiss on the side of her throat. Then, with sudden fire singing in her veins, he placed more hot, open-mouthed kisses upon her collar-bone. Elizabeth. His Elizabeth. His crazy, random, untameable Elizabeth. Her muscles contracted in the pit of her stomach as he timidly bit down. She stifled a cry and his arm encircled her waist, holding her.

Boromir paused in his gentle assault of her neck to look up. Their eyes locked. One of her hands reached out to stroke his cheek, his chin, stroking the stubble and tracing his mouth like she was trying to memorize it. She ran a hand through his hair, earning a shiver. His own hand ran down her spine, pulling up the hem of her shirt at the bottom to draw patterns into the skin.

No words were spoken. None were needed. They spoke the common language of passion.

Snarls and the clang of swords brought Elizabeth to her senses. She shook her head and remembered what they had to do. If they didn't save Merry and Pippin, there would be no story to tell to anyone.

"Merry and Pippin." She said and managed to get to her feet and yank Boromir up with her. He seemed to grasp what was happening because he began to run as well and she clutched his hand, terrified of losing him and even more terrified of losing herself.


	25. Of Endings and New Beginnings

**Chapter Twenty Five: Of Endings and New Beginnings**

_**"The measure of a man,  
>Stands or falls with what he leaves behind,<br>Gather on the sand,  
>Let your voices carry to the sky,<br>Rise in light.  
>Let the gods look down on this and wonder."<strong>_

_**- Heather Dale, Measure of a Man.**_

You could smell her fear. It was a palpable, living thing that crept up behind her eyes and into her chest. Instincts countless centuries old told her to run in the opposite direction and not look back. She didn't. She held Boromir's hand tightly and he half dragged her as he recollected what he was going to fight for.

They saw Merry and Pippin run across an old stone bridge. At its far end, they halted and saw Uruk-hai running towards them from another direction. When she caught her first glimpse at an Uruk-hai, her pallor paled considerably. They were well over six foot, broad and muscular of physique, with a single white handprint on their face and long, straggly dark hair. Each were well-armoured and carried a weapon.

Boromir let go of her hand and came charging at them, knocking the Uruk who was approaching Merry back, killing it with his sword. He hurled a throwing knife at the next and continued fighting. Elizabeth seized her small knife from her pocket and jumped away from an attacking Uruk. _Keep watch for the leader. _She thought, trying to simultaneously focus on the rapidly approaching creature and watch out for Boromir.

She heard the Horn of Gondor being blown, the sound filling the air. The Uruks paused but did not stop in their assault. Her tiny dagger was nothing compared to the great swords of her opponents. As one raised its sword to strike her down, she stabbed it in the gut, in a weak point unprotected by armour. She swallowed. The amount of dark blood gushing from the wound was stomach-churning. She wrenched the knife from the body and searching wildly for her companion. He was still fighting valiantly.

There were so many. They came swarming from the hills, dozens and dozens.

"Run!" Shouted Boromir to Merry and Pippin. He turned to Elizabeth. "Run!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" She said.

He was going to protest, she could tell. However, the Uruks were upon them and there was no time for demands. The first lunged at her. She stepped back and prepared to slash but Boromir was already there, decapitating it quickly and efficiently. His arm had a deep gash on it. Blood. The brightest, reddest thing she had seen in weeks trickled forth. Her mouth felt dry and her head was swimming. The next one came at her and this time there was no mercy. She pierced the flesh of its' neck and pushed it back.

Something knocked her on the back of the head with a slam_. _The pain was difficult to handle for a second. She clung on desperately to her vision. Fortunately, there was no lazy drifting from one state of consciousness to another. There was only darkness and silence for a short-lived flash, like swimming on a sea of black ink. One moment all was still, calm, muted. And then her head broke the surface and the five senses came rushing back, filling her mind with sight, sound, scent, taste and touch.

There was a steady, growing ache at the back of her skull. She turned around and moved out of the way of a black sword. She threw her knife at it, managing to lodge it in between the neck plating. It was the only bit of luck she had. She turned again, eyes hunting for Boromir.

He was there. And so was the leader, standing atop a natural ridge in the ground, baring its teeth in a gesture that was far too human. She raced towards Boromir, getting ready to push or hide or-.

_Thump. _An arrow. The noise around her wasn't acknowledged. The arrow pierced Boromir's chest with a barely audible intake of breath on his part.

"No." She hissed. "NO! I REFUSE TO LET THIS HAPPEN!" She ran to him. Tears were already making tracks in her cheeks. _"We are all victims of our own actions," _She thought bitterly, recalling Galadriel's words with precise accuracy. She knelt beside him, arms cradling his head and she kissed his cheeks, him lips, his chin. "This is not goodbye!" She said fiercely.

She helped him stand. "Run!" He repeated. She shook her head and was about to respond, when something happened she didn't plan on.

A searing, white hot pain shot through her left shoulder. For several seconds, she simply stood there, willing her body to obey her mind's commands and move. She could feel her own heartbeat pounding through her body, escaping in torrents from her shoulder. Boromir was very pale. He put his hand on her right shoulder and softly kissed her forehead.

Then raised his sword to meet the enemy behind Elizabeth. She had no weapon. She had thrown it at an Uruk. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Boromir killed two more Uruk-hai. She warned him of incoming strikes and dodged several blows. The Leader walked slowly into her line of sight. He lifted his bow and shot.

Elizabeth sprung forward, disregarding the pain in her shoulder. The large black arrow struck Boromir in the chest. She rushed to him and the next one was for her. Boromir swayed on his knees, blinking. It stuck in her rib cage. She gasped wetly and fell to the ground.

_Maybe I'll close my eyes... just for a little bit,_ She thought. She tried to reach out to Boromir, slowly making progress to where his hand lay. But then darkness came and enveloped her, wrapping her in its cool silence.

The next thing she knew was Aragorn. She couldn't open her eyes but she listened to the flow of words.

"No." She heard Aragorn say.

"They took the little ones."

"Hold still..."

She fell under again. She was vaguely aware of a pain in her chest as a strong hand tugged something hard and steely out of her ribs. The next thing she heard was more talking. It hurt her head.

"...And what of Elizabeth?"

"She... She is gone. I am sorry."

_I'm here, you idiots! _She wanted to scream and claw her way back into reality. She tried to stretch, to reach, to feel another's skin on her own.

After that, consciousness came and went in a hypnotic rhythm, like the sea appearing and disappearing on the deck of a boat in a storm. Elizabeth knew she lay on the forest floor, the moss beneath her was soft and the leaves smelled damp. She could feel another hand, one she almost clasped, fingertips excruciatingly close. Hers lay palm up. Boromir's was palm down, searching. The snarls of Uruk-hai still ringing in her ear drums, but the sound was distant. An underwater reverberation.

The darkness returned and she fell into it, grateful for the respite from light and thought. She wrapped herself in it like a blanket or a favourite winter coat, and let herself float, like icebergs off the coast of the arctic, cradled in the moonlight by black, icy water.

Then, there was the new sensation. It was hard to describe. It was like tumbling end over end into a bottomless pit while hearing her own thoughts reflected back at her a thousand times greater. First, there was the gut-wrenching vertigo, then the stark blinding terror that followed fast on its' heels, but after that, she felt some new sensation wandering quietly into the inky ocean; peace. Comfort. She felt... warm. Inviting. Open. Something flowed into the coldest, quietest and emptiest corners of her heart and filled her ears with the roar of waves.

The darkness was black. Very, very black. Black is the colour of night and of silence, but it is also the colour of freedom.


	26. Of Choices

**Chapter Twenty Six: Of Choices**

_**"And I, I will remember how to fly,  
>Unlock the heavens in my mind,<br>Follow my love,  
>Back through the same secret door."<strong>_

_**- Evanescence, Secret Door.**_

When the blackness cleared, she was certain that she was dreaming. She had to be. There was the ocean. And the woman. No, not a woman. How long had she been here? A vague tickling at the back of her mind reminded her. Not a woman, a goddess. She stood before Elizabeth now, with white raiment, old eyes and a young face. As another time she couldn't quite remember, the air smelled of salt. And blood. And regret.

"We meet again, Lost One." She spoke and touched Elizabeth on the forehead, fingers gentle. "Do you know me?"

She tried to recall the dreams in greater detail. A name, a nature, a personality, anything about this goddess. But she couldn't. "No." She answered. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be. I know you." Said the goddess. "My name is Nienna." Nienna? She knew that name. "I have been watching you through your journey. You certainly are... different."

Elizabeth smiled torpidly. "Where am I, exactly?"

"The Halls of Waiting. Well, not at the moment. Presently, you are by the sea. I have come to offer you a choice."

Elizabeth always did hate choosing. She looked out onto the waves. The mist filled her lungs and the breeze tangled itself in her hair. The sea was restless, as it constantly was. Dangerous but peaceful. She tried to remember, but it was difficult. It was like trying to find clarity in a bowl of ink. Murky. Clouded. "What choice is that?" She asked.

"You can either go back to your own world. Go back to normality. Forget about your time in Middle Earth. Yet you would live."

_Live? _She thought, dazed. _Am I dead?_

"You would be happy, but unaware of the love you felt, the decisions you made, the people you met. All of it would disappear. Or, you can go back to the Halls of Mandos." She met Elizabeth's eyes. "I know there are souls who desire your company. However, by making this choice, you could never return to Middle Earth, nor your own land. You would be trapped, no matter how lovely the prison is. Your body would die in your home realm."

It came rushing back. All in one big tidal wave. Boromir. Uruk-hai. Pain. The emotion hit her full in the chest. Contracting like a monster in a cage, wanting to be free. She gasped raggedly. Nienna did not move or give any indication she was alarmed. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks. The air seemed to sing around her. Except for the waves, it was completely silent and it was devouring her. She exhaled and closed her eyes, feeling so stupid, so bitter and so helpless that she couldn't save him.

She screeched. In misery and in a moment of madness. The fragile silence shattered and dispersed, living the air clear of tension. But not of grief. The sorrow lingering in her heart, in her whole body.

"I feel your pain." Murmured Nienna in consolation.

She appreciated the comfort. "I don't want to forget." She whispered. "The memories... they are important. I won't be the same person without them. If I forget, I won't be the same."

Nienna smiled wistfully.

She had made her choice.


	27. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Elizabeth Sparrow, 25, died on Monday afternoon at Leeds station. On that Monday, the deceased left her home in the company of her Grandmother, for the purpose of going to visit a relative by the 2:27pm train. When the deceased reached the station, she appeared to be very much exhausted. She, however, got into the train, but gradually became worse. In getting out of the train at Leeds, she died while on the platform.

Dr. James Bell performed the autopsy. He claimed that the cause of death was heart attack. This lead him to investigate why a healthy, 25 year old woman's heart would stop beating. He was quoted as saying; _"In the weeks prior to her death she was experiencing hallucinations. This would have caused a whirlwind of chemicals to be released in the neural structure, due to most hallucinations being very stressful or frightening. The deceased claimed to be grief-stricken because of her lover's death, and it is known that she was not in a relationship, therefore we must conclude this myocardial infarction was induced by the release of stress hormones in the brain, inducing a life-threatening arrhythmia. As far as we can tell, she, literally, died of a broken heart."_

Rose Sparrow, Grandmother, talked to _The Independent _about her loss.

"_Elizabeth was such a sweet girl, always laughing and making jokes. I still can't believe she's gone, it came as a shock to everyone. We knew she was ill, but no one knew how bad it was. When she drove back from the shops, I knew she wasn't right. She would stay in bed for days, asking for someone named Boromir. All I can do is get my peace of mind from knowing she is in a better place. A place where's she's with her Boromir, whoever he is."_


	28. Acknowledgements

Dear All,

Thank you for reading the Xylophone of Gondor. Thank you for staying with Elizabeth throughout her adventure. And thank you for sticking with me, even through rough patches of writers block and weeks of not updating. For those asking, you can see why I couldn't tell you about a sequel. However, I may or may not write a companion piece to this. Sort of a 'deleted scenes' fic.

Thank you to all those who help shape this writing and to those who reviewed.

And thank you to Yusra, who is my Mellon.

_If you enjoyed the Xylophone of Gondor, you may also like..._

The Official Fanfiction University of Middleearth - misscam

I'd Give Up Forever To Touch You - Arden Skysender

The Hunt - Juliediane

A Mirkwood Spider Landed On My Front Porch - Nieriel Raina

The Tale of Adelaide - H2Ogoddess

Plain Jane In Thirteen Chapters - Larry1710

Magic Man - L8Bleumr

Clinically Insane, Possibly Crazy - Scorpian

I am NOT a MarySue - Insanepersonishappy

Guardians:Fellowship Book 1:Of Entrances - WarriorMaid


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